You Want Me Too
by inklovealways
Summary: Santana and Sebastian just can't seem to get each other out of their heads after their 'Smooth Criminal' showdown. Pairing - Sebtana, Brittana.
1. Chapter 1

**AN - ****So Brittana fans don't come after me with chainsaws, but this is a Sebtana fic, set post 'Smooth Criminal'. I'm honestly in love with the pair (one of the first hetro couples I've properly shipped and they are both gay...figures). Anyway I couldn't get this out of my head and this happened... I really hope that you all like it and don't hate me too much. Love you all!x**_  
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><p><em>"You've been struck by a smooth criminal."<em>

Wrapped in a dark red blanket in bed seven hours later, Sebastian couldn't shake the song lyrics out of his mind. The exhilaration was still coursing through his veins from finally singing with someone who challenged him and pushed him. Infuriatingly so.

Santana with her long dark hair, flowing around her shoulders and masking her face, and her mistrustful eyes that showed how much she craved to best him. And her voice. It would send goosebumps down his spine - if he could feel anything like that for some stuck-up, self-assured bitch that could wail a few decent notes.

And yet why couldn't he stop thinking about the way her fingers had brushed against his chest as she shoved him away and the elegant curve of her lips, slightly parted inches from his own. The number had been heat, aggression, a fight for power. So why was he left feeling a little disappointed when the devil had scoffed, turned on her heel and left, swinging her hips as she went.

'You're tired Sebastian, and you're thinking crazy. Go to sleep.' He thought and twisted the blanket around him more firmly, pulling up the image of some toned, tanned guy panting beneath him and willing himself to fall into oblivion.

...

Brittany was upset. And Santana was furious.

"You said that you were with me. And I go away for two hours to visit that asshat at gay Hogwarts and you agreed to go on a date with him?" she screeched down the phone at her girlfriend.

"San, it's not like that. All of Artie's shoes have gone missing and I suspected that a gnome wasbliving under his bed building a fortress with them so that he and his brother's could overpower Artie and steal his soul." her voice was pleading and Santana sighed in frustration, "I couldn't just let that happen San. So I had to go over and after his cousin showed up with the shoes, he'd taken them to get them all cleaned, we ordered in pizza and he helped me with my English assignment."

As adorable as Brittany's world view was, sometimes Santana just needed her to be practical and she had been counting on her girlfriend being there so she could vent about what had happened with Sebastian. But instead she'd been having dinner with her ex-boyfriend.

"And then he said he'd keep helping me with it if I came back over some nights." Brittany continued and Santana's composure snapped.

"Brit I've had a shit day and I needed you, but right now all I can think of is you being with him and you both get close again. You know that he still likes you. I can't talk anymore tonight because I really don't want to fight with you. I'll see you later."

"No, Santana, wait-" but she had already hung up and tossed the phone across the room. It landed with a soft thump on the green beanbag chair.

She didn't understand why it bothered her so much that Brittany was spending time with Artie, she knew that Brittany loved her - in whatever way that was - so why the flare of anger.

It was his fault. The twink. Sebastian. He'd riled her up and she hated that he'd managed to get under her skin.

He with the douchebag Twilight style hair, and lips so inviting that it was difficult not to stare at them. But she didn't stare. Because she hated him. And liked girls. Like Brittany.

The novelty of having someone with just as much sass, A-game and self-confidence was what was making her unable to think about anything but their duet. It wasn't because she could still feel his breath ghosting over her neck or the way his eyes had slid over her, both mocking and appreciative at the same time.

That's what worried her: if some bastard like that could make her feel like he wanted to set her on fire and that she was the most desirable thing on the earth, the what could a nice guy like Artie make Brittany feel for him.

It had been a long day. The trip to Dalton and the duet had taken it out of her. It was 11 at night and she should just go to sleep. She'd talk to Brittany in the morning and hopefully never have to lay eyes on Sebastian again.

It would be alright in the morning.

...

_His hands tangled in her hair as she shoved him down onto one of the chairs, pupils blown and lips smirking playfully._

_"What? Not fighting back Smythe?" She brought her mouth down so that her breath tickled his ear. She lowered herself onto his lap, straddling him and in the process her short dress slipped up so that all of her tanned legs were exposed and the glorious curve of her ass just peeked into view._

_Everything was Santana. Her scent - dark, dangerous, seductive - wrapped around him. Her hair seemed never ending, a river of darkness that he wanted to drown in. She smirked again and ground herself against him, her mouth parting in a blissful pant._

_But she was winning. Controlling him. And Sebastian couldn't have that. He was the powerful one. He was the top. He was the one in control._

_He laughed, more shaky than he'd meant to but considering that all of his blood was quickly shifting to his lower regions he couldn't really help it, and grabbed her underneath her thighs an lifted her up, pushing her roughly against the wall in front of them._

_She gasped in surprise and a blush spread to her cheeks as leaned her forehead against his. Sebastian's hands slid further back until he was cupping her ass and he bit down on the lobe of her ear, "Hard to fight with Satan. But I'll play along"_

_Her fingers splayed against her chest and she chuckled, a sound that made him want to punch the laugher out of her while at the same time never want to stop listening to it. He thrust his body against hers, eliciting a whimper that made him growl in satisfaction._

_"I think I'll like playing with you." Santana murmured, reaching down to cup his growing bulge before his lips crashed against hers and nothing else mattered._

Sebastian sat bolt upright in his bed, sweat dripping off him and toes curling into the mattress. He didn't. He couldn't. How could he have had a sex dream about Santana.

No, wait, wait, wait, a sex dream about a girl.

He was gay. He liked cock. He liked sucking it and driving his into guy's asses. Girls and boobs, and pussies were like that family member that always gets drunk at get together's and dances on the tables: tolerable but not something you wanted to have anything to do with.

And Santana. He hated her. Hated her stupid long legs and her disgusting soulful voice. Hated her soft looking lips and her curving eyelashes. Hated her perfectly round ass and perfectly sized boobs.

Fuck.

He wanted to control her. That was all it was. She was the first person that he hadn't been able to either shock or charm in respect or tear down. She was tough. And he hadn't beaten her yet.

That was all it was.

He continued to tell himself that as he sent the text message to Blaine asking for her number.

...

Breathing heavily and biting down on her bottom lip to muffle the sounds of her moaning from her parents in the next room, Santana furiously plunged two fingers into herself while yanking at her left nipple.

_Brittany was straddling her, her beautiful blonde hair glistening in the sunlight and a smile playing on her lips. She sucked on her fingers slowly and then dragged them down her naked body, teasing trails along her exposed nipples and dipping down to rub against herself. She threw her head back and moaned, before slipping her fingers from herself into Santana, who felt pleasure rushing through her body. She closed her eyes in ecstasy allowing her girlfriend to keeping pumping in and out of her._

_A warm body covered hers and breath ghosted against her ears but the hand never stopped pleasing her. "Enjoying yourself Santana? Think you can handle more?" asked the voice in her ear that made her eyes fly open. Because it wasn't Brittany on top of her anymore. It was someone decidedly less female._

_"S-Sebastian... What are you doing?" she whimpered, because his fingers had found that bundle of nerves that made pleasure spasms shoot through her._

_He was smirking but his eyes were full of lust and she could tell that he was every bit as turned on as she was. _

_"Just making sure you're okay Sannie." _

_And then he was kissing her, lips warm and tongue seeking entrance. She gasped and in the process was consumed by his kiss. She drowned in it, adoring the way his other hand rubbed circles into the back of her neck and the thumb of the preoccupied hand was soothing circles onto her clit. _

_Everything was Sebastian, and she hated the way that she didn't hate it. But she couldn't think about anything else because with one more crook of his fingers, she was pushed over the edge and wailed in pure ecstasy._

Santana opened her eyes and pulled her hand out from between her legs, wiping her fingers on the towel beside her. Why had she thought of Sebastian while masturbating? And why had that thought turned her on so much?

She had been fine thinking of Brittany, in fact she didn't even have to imagine the sex because it happens, all the time. So why had she changed to that stupid meerkat face?

It was nothing. Stupid. She was a lesbian. She like girls. It just had to be some left over hetro feelings from when she had refused to come out of the closet.

But she didn't have anymore time to think about it as her phone buzzed beside her.

From Unknown: Texting to tell you that I won today. Your pathetic voice doesn't hold a candle to mine.

From Unknown: It's Sebastian.

From Unknown: But I'm guessing that you already figured that out.

...

Blaine had been pissed, it was 1 in the morning after all, but he was nothing if not unfailingly helpful and it had taken Sebastian all of ten minutes to get his fellow glee club member's number from him.

Sebastian didn't know what he was thinking doing this, or even why he was doing this. He just needed to prove to himself that he was better than her, that she didn't have any control over him what so ever. He sent the texts before he could over analyse it and waited to see what the demoness would reply.

From Santana: I think you need to go to the doctor's because I think that all of the crap you're putting into your hair is seeping into your brain and making your senses get muddled.

From Santana: Because the only way that you can think that your voice is better than mine is if your ears are filled with that gunk.

Sebastian smiled to himself, almost proud that he'd managed to predict that response. Most people went on the defensive, trying to convince you of their own talent. He - and obviously now Santana - went on the offensive making you believe that you were wrong in the first place and it's you that is worse through no fault but your own.

He could almost think that this was going to be fun.

...

Santana's brain was reeling, she hadn't had time to sort through what her imaginations meant and now she had to argue with the idiotic spoiled daddy's boy. And she was not in the mood.

From Sebastian: Funny I was going to refer you for your awful taste in fashion. I mean the hat? So 2010.

Why was he doing this? Did he know that she was angry, could he sense it, and he just had to get a few extra digs in before she blew up.

He was going to have to do better than that.

...

From Santana: That's what you come back with. Fashion advice? From the guy who looks like a cross between a preschooler and a college professor? Poor show.

From Santana: And I'd heard such great things about you.

He couldn't help it, she'd given him the perfect opening and he couldn't get the image of her panting and grinding against him out of him mind, so he asked without thinking.

From Sebastian: And what, pray tell, are these great things about me? :P.

From Santana: Don't flatter yourself. You're ego is big enough.

From Santana: And from the looks of things today, your ego is the only big thing about you ;)

...

She didn't know why she said it, in fact she knew that she was lying, her eyes had managed to unwilling glance at that particular area and she could see that he certainly wasn't lacking. But she'd be damned if she was going to tell him that. She did know, however, that she was going to hit a nerve.

From Sebastian: Looks like you need your eyes tested too Satan because I can assure you my ego is one of my smaller attributes.

From Sebastian: But you were looking? Aren't you meant to be a psycho lesbian?

From Santana: You heard right. I was just checking to see how much force I'd need to put behind the kick that I'm aiming your way for it to hurt you for weeks. Turns out, not much.

From Sebastian: I wonder really how your girlfriend manages to get off with your saggy ass completely putting a downer on any scissoring the pair of you two do.

From Sebastian: Or do you just lay down and let her ride you while you try to keep your unimpressive assets from sliding under your armpits?

Santana wasn't even angry now, nothing that Sebastian could say was going to affect her. The easy insults that they passed back and forth however were...amusing.

From Santana: Oh believes me, I can make my girl scream so loud she wakes up the neighbours, even with my 'saggy ass' so don't worry about my sex life. Worry about your own. Has it been that long since some guys went down on you that you need to go after a guy in a perfectly happy - if sickening - relationship?

...

It was her longest reply, but somehow the insult didn't sting. What irked him was the thought of Santana getting herself off with some other girl. That shouldn't bother him. But it did.

From Sebastian: Trust me my dick is perfectly well taken care off, Blaine's just for fun.

From Santana: I don't understand why anyone with half a brain would want to go near your dick. But then again you only fuck half-wits and losers, don't you?

From Sebastian: You would know, I hear your 'girl' hasn't got much going for her in way of brains.

From Santana: Fuck you. Don't you dare talk about Brittany that way.

...

No matter how much his insults didn't affect her, she wasn't about to let him get away with calling Brittany stupid. That was too far.

From Sebastian: Ooh, hit a nerve have we? I guess the great and mighty Satan does also have a weak point just like us mere mortals.

...

He'd found it then, the one thing he had over her. She was in love. And love made you weak, made you care. Sebastian wouldn't, couldn't do that. And that was where he won.

From Santana: The next time I see you I'm going to tear off your dick and make you watch as I feed it to the little singing bluebirds that next in my hair.

From Sebastian: I can think of a few more, better, things I'd rather you would do to my dick.

Wait? What? Had he really sent that? No. He hadn't... This had been a way to insult Santana, not to hit on her. He was gay for chrissakes! No. He could just pretend like that hadn't happened. She would't reply to that.

...

Santana stared down at her phone, trying to decide if he was playing her or if he actually meant it. Why should it matter? She didn't want to do anything to his dick apart from hurt it. He was bluffing. Trying to scare her away. He was gay. And so was she.

From Santana: Wrong plumbing twink. And aren't you a little too... umm what's the word? Gay to be thinking about girls doing things to your dick?

From Sebastian: Don't tell me that you haven't been thinking about our duet since the minute you walked out of the door.

From Santana: Yeah, I've been thinking of ways to ends you.

From Sebastian: I've been thinking the same. Just different context.

Why you smug, arrogant, self-indulging asshole! He had to be bluffing. Any second now she was going to get a text telling her how stupid she was for believing that he ever wanted a piece of her.

But no such text came.

From Sebastian: Tell me you haven't thought about shoving me against a wall and fucking. Because that's the vibes I got all the way through the number.

From Santana: Those were, I want to kill you vibes.

From Sebastian: Fuck.

From Santana: Kill.

From Sebastian: Fuck.

From Santana: _KILL!_

This couldn't be happening. She liked girls. Why would she have put herself through all the pain if she wasn't. Brittany. She loved Brittany. And she hated Sebastian.

...

Why was he doing this? Pushing it. In fact why was he trying to persuade her at all? She was missing that one all important thing that he loved. A cock. He couldn't want to fuck her.

But thinking once about those gorgeous legs and pouting lips, assured him that yes, in fact he did.

From Santana: Why are you doing this? We're both gay. I like pussy and you like dick. That's the way it is.

From Sebastian: I don't know. I just know that I want to fuck you. And that I don't like you.

From Santana: I don't like you either.

From Sebastian: I don't like you more.

...

This was getting them nowhere. When had it turned into this? One minute they were insulting each other and the next Sebastian wanted to fuck her. No. She couldn't go there. She didn't want him. Her imagination was wrong.

From Santana: I can't do this. I have a girlfriend.

From Sebastian: Doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you.

...

He used the line that he'd used on Blaine, although he'd never used it before on a girl. He'd never met any girl that had turned him on, but he'd met plenty of guys that did. Slamming, sweating, swearing. Sex. With guys. But now it was Santana. And he wanted her.

From Santana: It does bother me. So stop.

...

From Sebastian: Not until you tell me I'm right. You felt something in that room.

She couldn't.

From Santana: No.

From Sebastian: Yes.

She wouldn't.

From Santana: No.

From Sebastian: Yes.

She had to.

From Santana: Will it make you go away if I agree.

From Sebastian: Maybe, probably not though.

From Santana: Fine. Yes. But I can't. I'm gay.

From Sebastian: I know the feeling.

From Sebastian: Where do we go from here.

She kept telling herself that she was gay and brought up the daydreams and fantasies she'd had about the cheerio's. Brought up the real life stuff with Brittany. She never felt happy with a guy, and she'd had plenty. But with Brittany, she was complete, whole. Happy. With girls.

From Santana: We go nowhere. You go back to getting some twink to sit on your dick and I'll go back to my girlfriend. Today never happened.

...

She kept protesting but Sebastian knew he was right. Knew that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

From Sebastian: You'll be dreaming about me. I know it.

From Santana: You're an idiot. And wrong. Goodnight Sebastian. And drop it.

...

She forced herself to drop her phone and pull her duvet around her. In the morning this would all just be a hazy memory. She would go back Brittany and forget how it felt to have Sebastian's hand roaming over her body and his length pressed against her. She wouldn't think about it. Couldn't. She hated him. Hated him for what he made her feel. Well, she would feel nothing. The dull ache in her clit wanted her attention but she ignored it, knowing that her fingers would be replaced with images of his. No, so would sleep.

Closing her eyes, she prayed that the face staring back at her from the darkness would disappeared when sleep finally claimed her.

She ignored the buzzing of her phone and drifted away.

From Sebastian: Giving up. Never took you for a quitter.

From Sebastian: Ignoring me won't make it go away.

From Sebastian: Have fun dreaming about my dick.

From Sebastian: I win.

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><p><strong>AN - Please let me know what you thought! And thank you for reading!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**AN - So guys this wasn't even supposed to be anything more than a oneshot but I had such a lovely response from the first part and the story just wouldn't get out of my head that I had to write more. I really hope that you enjoy this (and that I don't disappoint anyone) and I just want to say thank you to everyone who alerted, favourited or review this story :) It's really awesome not to be the only one who adores Sebtana.**

**Sidenote - How freaking awesome was the Michael episode of Glee! So good! And also because I had started this before it aired, the whole Blaine and Santana slushying thing didn't happen, it's AU guys go with it (plus really Sebtana is never going to be canon but we can wish!)**

**Anyway enjoy! x**

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><p>Sweat dripping.<p>

Chests heaving.

Fingers clawing.

Brittany hadn't know what was going to hit her when Santana had stormed into her bedroom the next morning, but she soon realised that Santana meant business as she was thrown against a wall and her panties pulled down sharply.

Biting down roughly on the side of the blonde girl's neck, Santana spread her girlfriend open and started to thrust two fingers into her, not bothering to wet them. She hoisted one of the pale legs up around her waist to get a better angle, and yes, she'd found it as Brittany gasped and buried her face into Santana's shoulder.

She hadn't let herself think about last night, even though almost everything was trying to remind her of it, mainly the green towel that she'd dumped carelessly on the floor. She'd showered and dressed in lightning speed and with a quick 'Morning, see you tonight' called in the direction of her parent's in the kitchen, she'd driven over to Brittany's house - not to prove anything because she didn't need to prove to herself that she liked girls, she knew it - because she needed the warmth and comfort of her girlfriend. And maybe a quick morning fuck. But not to prove anything.

"Like this Brit-Brit? Want more?" she whispered against the girl's neck and then quickly clamped her mouth shut. Hadn't that been exactly what Se- no don't even go there.

Luckily Brittany was almost whimpering in assent and Santana dragged them both over to the bed before she could do any more thinking. She straddled her girlfriend, knowing that Brittany loved it when she was a demanding top.

"Want me to strip for you Brit-Brit? Will that make you wet?" she said seductively and unzipped her Cheerio's outfit, pulling it swiftly over her head so that she was in nothing but a red bra and pantie set.

Brittany moaned with longing, "You're so pretty San. Kiss me?"

She didn't need telling twice. Their lips met hungrily and they spent time just kissing and holding each other, hands roaming downwards to cup breasts and squeeze asses. This was where Santana belonged, right here with Brittany, her perfect boobs pressed against hers and warmth and love radiating around them.

She couldn't help but hear the whispering voice in her left ear, "Left the bloodstains on the carpet," and the soft drag of fingertips along her shoulders.

Seductive.

Deadly.

Wrong.

Tearing her panties off, Santana nudged Brittany's legs open and lowered herself between them and began to grind against her, furiously blurring out the memory. Brittany was gasping and writhing beneath her and Santana felt the shocks of desire pulsing through her body.

Nothing could compare to this feeling, being skin to skin with the one person you love, feeling their desire and want around you, against you. Bucking and swearing they thrust together, both trying to make the other reach their climax. A blush crept along Brittany's breastbone and her eyes were half lidded, not even hiding her desire.

Brittany's fingers clawed at her back, clinging on for the love of her own sanity and Santana bit down on her lips to keep from screaming. She was almost there, the burst of happiness just out of reach and Santana growled in frustration.

Harder and faster, but it was elusive and Brittany was gone, arching into the mattress and moaning loudly. Why couldn't Santana come? She needed it. Needed the release.

She looked down at the goddess beneath her and usually that would do it, the sight of her gorgeous girlfriend post orgasm was one of the most beautiful sights Santana had ever seen, it filled her with longing and sent her screaming in ecstasy.

But not today.

"It's because you don't want to think about her." came the snarky, smarmy voice in her ear, "You want to think about me. Plunging my cock into you until you're unable to scream anything but my name."

No. No she didn't. She wanted Brittany. Sweet, soft, loving Brittany.

"Hard, furious, sweating."

No.

"Say it."

"No." she whimpered, unable to contain herself.

"Say it. Say my name."

"No." she said it louder fighting against it and pounding against Brittany as if her life depended on it.

"Say my name. And you'll get what you want"

She wasn't thinking about him. She wasn't.

"Come for me. Come for me Satan. Sebastian."

Dark eyes, succulent lips, body lithe and tall. It consumed her.

"Sebastian..." she whispered and came, longer and harder than any time before, shaking and covered in sweat.

She lay there, just willing her heart to stop beating so fast and wanting the bed to swallow her up whole because unless she was very much mistaken, she'd just said another person's name during sex. And that was one of the biggest no-no's of a relationship.

She didn't want to hide from Brittany, they had been through too much for Santana to treat her like she was an idiot, she wouldn't treat her like the rest of the world did. Looking up, she stared into Brittany's curious face waiting for the accusation and anger to cross it. It was what she deserved, deserved to be shouted at. She didn't deserve Brittany.

"When did you go to the zoo?" she asked quietly.

What? Out of everything she'd expected this had to be the furthest from it. The zoo? What was she talking about?

Santana crooked her head to the side and sat up, "What?"

"You said Sebastian. Doesn't that mean that you went to the zoo? And saw the crabs? Like in the film we watched at Blaine's." She stated it plainly, as if it was the only option for the slip up in names.

Bewildered, Santana realised that she thought she was talking about the stupid singing crab from 'The Little Mermaid' and groaned. Why couldn't Brittany just get this one thing? She should feel relieved that Brittany hadn't picked up on what was really going – not that anything was – but she didn't. Guilt was still teeming through her and she wanted to be reprimanded for her fault.

"No Brittany I have-"

"BRITTANY! LORD TUBBINGTON IS EATING MRS HOGARTH'S VEGETABLES AGAIN!" Screeched up Brittany's mother and Brittany just shrugged her shoulder's in apology and slipped out of the room, leaving Santana sitting on her bed alone clad only in a red bra.

She had to tell Brittany the truth. She couldn't keep it from her. She'd came thinking about someone else. A guy. But how? That had never happened before, it had always been the thought of the girl's getting themselves off in the porn she watched that sent her over the edge even when she'd been with most of the male population at McKinley. So why now? Now, when she was in a happy relationship with the girl of her dreams.

Sebastian meant nothing. She had to keep telling herself it, and maybe she would start to believe it. She didn't have to worry Brittany and ruin the one perfect thing in her life over something silly and inconsequential. It meant nothing, she was still tired.

It meant nothing.

"Stop kidding yourself." Murmured the voice in her mind. She told it to shut up as she pulled her panties back on.

….

He was bored.

Not that it was a first time experience for him, he'd been bored plenty of times before. Like when his mother insisted on have a sit down meal with his great aunt's that seemed to be older than half of the disgusting heirloom's his mother kept in the attic. Or when they had done plant life and technology in Biology. That had been a bitch.

But he'd never been bored when being on the receiving end of a blowjob before. Sure he'd maybe misjudged the attractiveness of the person and had to grit his teeth and bare it once or twice, or remind said person to mind their teeth, but he'd never been flat out disinterested. And he was now.

The guy on his knee's was clearly enjoying himself, or at least trying to make it seem like he was enjoying it so that Sebastian could get off faster. That didn't look like it was going to happen. He was hard, so very hard - it was his Thursday morning blowjob after all. He didn't really even remember how they had become a thing: one morning he'd asked a guy passing his room for a hand with putting up selves and the next thing his warm mouth was around him. It had stuck.

He still didn't even know the guys name. And he couldn't bring himself to care.

There was nothing about it that was exciting and that was the sucker – pardon the pun – he wasn't interested in it anymore, it was a routine, old, practiced. Like marriage.

The guy looked up and Sebastian locked eyes with deep blue one's almost hidden under wavy blonde hair. Not right. The eyes should be darker, with a slight curve on the inside, the hair longer and falling around shoulders.

It should be her.

He just couldn't get her out of his head. Those last texts last night has been petty and he had fallen asleep wrapped in images of her glinting smirk and her fingers trailing down his body. It wasn't real, like the incessant sucking on his dick, but it was what he wanted.

"Stop. For the love of blowjob's everywhere just stop." He snapped in a downwards direction and pulled away, pulling up his boxers half disgusted with himself.

The guy looked forlorn and a little hurt, "Did I do something wrong?"

He didn't have the energy or the brain space to think about some guy who couldn't even give a decent blowjob, "Yes. The scent of your clearly out of date after-shave is making me nauseous. Get out." He struggled to keep his temper under control.

Fury had suddenly taken over his body: anger over being unable to get what he wants, frustration at wanting someone that clearly didn't want him, confusion over who and what he was and concern that he was going out of his mind.

He didn't move and Sebastian turned on him, eye's blazing, "Get the fuck out of my room." He snarled and thank god the guy had the sense to go.

Sebastian just wanted to scream. He felt like his brain was trying to flip itself over inside his skull.

Was he actually gay? He had always just assumed that because he liked cock and though guys were delicious that he was gay. It wasn't really something he'd thought about, girls just didn't interest him.

Santana did though. All hard edges and snarkiness. If she had been a guy there would have been no problem. It was just that one genital flaw. He conjured up the image of a pussy, one from the straight porn he'd started out on, and it almost made him lose his hard on. Nope. It did nothing for him – the guy however did.

Then the thought about Santana, the longing he felt for her. Would her pussy be so bad?

But did he long for sex? Or did he long to control her, the one person he hadn't managed to. He'd wanted to control Kurt but hadn't wanted anything to do with the creamed-up diva. What did he want?

A large brandy to numb his whirring head.

He had Warbler rehearsal in thirty minutes and all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed. Who'd have thought, Sebastian Smythe mind-boggled over a girl.

His phone bleeped innocently from under his pillows, where he'd tossed it last night.

From Santana: Tonight. 7pm. Parking lot. We need to talk.

His first reaction was one of great relief followed by dread and then a mixture of excitement and confusion.

Really from that he should have just put his phone down and forgotten about the Lima temptress.

And he should really get a hand that followed his brain's instructions.

From Sebastian: Wear the cheerleading outfit and I just might.

From Santana: Fuck you Smythe.

From Sebastian: I thought that was the plan?

From Santana: We're talking.

From Sebastian: Since it's you I might just turn up.

From Sebastian: Maybe.

From Santana: I'm not wearing panties. I'll keep them off if you come.

From Sebastian: Deal.

From Sebastian: Coming can be desert.

From Santana: I'll bring cupcakes because I really don't fancy what you're bringing.

From Sebastian: We'll see.

From Santana: We will.

…

Rachel was laughing loudly at some story that Finn was telling her while the rest of the club began to file into the choir room. Santana was towed in by Brittany, who had been brightly bubbling about the treasure Lord Tubbington had found in the vegetable patch for the entire drive to school and Santana didn't have the heart to ask her to stop. She was churning with doubt and guilt, although, she scolded herself, she had nothing to feel guilty about. She hadn't done anything.

Yet.

Kurt brought her attention back into the room, "Hey, Santana? How'd it go with meerkat face yesterday? Smite him down with your vicious words?" Every pair of eyes were trained on her expectantly, knowing that whatever had happened would've been a bloodbath.

She wanted to hit him. The last thing she needed is for the entire club to start discussing Dalton and Sebastian. This was not the time.

"Did you visit the meerkats too San? Why didn't you take me with you?" Brittany chirped in, nudging her indignantly with her elbow.

Confusion crossed Kurt's face, "Brittany what are you talking about?"

She turned to him, a smile playing on her lips as if Kurt was being silly, "Santana went to the zoo yesterday. She visited Sebastian the crab, like in that movie where the girl had fish for feet."

Stunned silence met her words. After Santa Claus and Rory the Leprechaun, this had to be one of Brittany's finest misunderstandings.

It was Berry that broke the silence, "Santana didn't you go to Dalton yesterday? To give Sebastian a piece of your mind about stealing the Michael songs for Regional's."

"And your right hook." Puck added in unhelpfully, and Santana just wanted them all to disappear.

She should have told Brittany, she shouldn't have lied. How the hell was she going to explain this?

Brittany stared at her, not knowing what to believe and when Santana saw the hurt rising in her eyes she couldn't lie anymore, "Well thank you everyone for being denser than the godforsaken air that keeps Berry alive and pissing me off more than the time Puck decided that chap-stick was a suitable replacement for lube." Protests swarmed around her but she wasn't in the mood to listen, "Brit, I did go to Dalton yesterday to see that guy Sebastian, you know the one with the flick." She motioned her hands up in the air.

Santana could almost hear the click of the light bulb turning on in her mind. "Sebastian...Why did you say his name this morning?" she asked quietly, brushing away the hand that Santana was frantically trying to hold.

"I...I don't know." She answered honestly, because really she'd gotten into this mess by lying.

Brittany just stared at her. In their many years of friendship, Santana had done some terrible things, things that maybe only Brittany had ever forgiven her for and Santana had always known that there would be a safe and understanding pair of arms to hold her when everything went wrong. But now, the look that was on Brittany's face was one that she had never seen before: betrayal. Those arms were being snatched away just as quickly as the tears were beginning to pool in the corners of her eyes.

"How could you do that Santana?" she asked, her big blue eyes boring down on her. It was the use of her full name that did it, made her snap.

"I didn't do anything." She snapped and pulled herself out of her seat, ready to storm out instead of causing Brittany any more pain.

"You said his name."

"I didn't mean to."

"But you still said it. Which means that you must have been thinking about him. And I was only thinking of you."

She was right and Santana knew it. This was what she wanted, right? To be shouted at. Suddenly Santana couldn't take it, didn't want to stand and listen to Brittany scold her for doing nothing. She hadn't cheated. And she had bigger problems to figure out, like why the hell she had said Sebastian's name.

Remembering why she'd been so angry last night brought her and Brittany's conversation back to mind and Santana found a way to turn the blame from herself, "You weren't thinking about me last night though were you? All cuddled up with Rolls Royce over there."

Their voices were reaching shouting levels and you could have cut the tension in the room with a blunt spoon as the other members watched the argument unfold. Some of them must have some idea of what was going on, others simply just having two words flashing in their mind: CAT FIGHT.

Santana didn't know why she was saying this and immediately felt guilt for accusing Brittany, but the other girl blushed and she wondered if maybe she'd hit the nail on the head. But now wasn't the time or the place to hash it out. It felt like the air around her was thickening, she had to get out.

Brittany was watching her again, waiting for her next move even though it was she that should be angry, and Santana just sighed and said softly, "We can't do this now Brit."

She nodded in assent and then quickly faced the front of the classroom as Mr Schue blew into the room, late as usual. Santana quickly grabbed a seat in the back row before he began speaking about some inane task for the rest of the week.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Brittany was supposed to be deliriously happy and in love and Santana was supposed to make her feel that way, not make her look like she'd been kicked in the gut and hit across the head.

Was she good enough for Brittany?

A little voice in the back of her mind answered.

It wasn't just Sebastian that disagreed.

…

From Sebastian: Daydreaming about me yet?

From Santana: Unless you are the symbolistic features of the paper lantern in 'A Streetcar Name Desire', then no.

From Sebastian: Stuck in English huh? Bummer.

From Santana: Thought that was your nickname.

…

From Santana: Just saw some girl making googly eyes at the stuffed animal her boyfriend gave her at their lunch table. The animal reminded me of you.

From Sebastian: A flawless masterpiece of divine measures?

From Santana: No.

From Santana: A hog.

From Sebastian: Takes one to know one.

…

"Santana what are you doing?" Quinn asked her, leaning in to speak in her ear as the Sue blew her whistle to call for their last period gym class to come to an end.

Santana looked at her confused and Quinn tutted, hooking her arm around the brunette's and dragging her to one of Santana's favorite places: the girls locker room.

"What are you talking about Fabray?"

"Texting him."

"Him who?"

"Sebastian. Don't act dumb, I've seen his name flash up on your phone about fifty times today – and that's just the ones from after lunch." Quinn was struggling to get her shoes off and missed the look of panic on Santana's face.

Offensive mode Santana, tell her to mind her own damn business.

"Nothing that ex-preggers-psycho-pants needs to care about." She smiled innocently and almost thought she was getting away with it.

Quinn scrutinized her, trying to figure out with angle the girl was playing, "Just don't hurt Brittany okay. I don't care what shit you have with that Warbler but don't hurt her."

Like that's what I'm trying to do.

At every turn there was a reason to just stop whatever she and Sebastian were doing. They shouldn't be talking, they were supposed to hate each other. She did hate him, didn't she? But the reasons for that were slowing drying up as she texted him. He actually seemed human.

And fuckable.

No. Not fuckable. You're gay.

She looked around at the semi naked girls around her and it confirmed it. So where did Sebastian fit. Her phone bleeped and Quinn rolled her eyes at the name but said nothing.

From Sebastian: See you soon ;)

She chewed her lip as her fingers hovered over the keys. She shouldn't. But if she ever wanted to find out why she couldn't stop thinking about the Warbler, she was going to have to go. This wasn't hurting Brittany, this was helping Santana.

She'd always been taught to help herself first.

From Santana: Me in real life…in a few hours. Me in your mind…a few seconds.

…

She was going to gnaw her bottom lip off – even though she told herself there was nothing to be nervous about. This was just to show herself that she felt nothing for him. He meant nothing.

He was also late and it frustrated Santana to no end that he had the audacity to even be late. No one stands up Santana Lopez. No one.

"Afraid I was standing you up?" came a voice from behind her and it took all of her resolve not to jump in fright. Instead she put on her best bitch face and turned to face him.

"Like you'd even dare."

He was wearing dark denim jeans and a skin tight red shirt, a jacket hung uselessly from his arm. His face, still half obscured in the darkness, looked exactly like it had yesterday, but had his eyes had that bright green fleck through them? Or his lips been that red?

It hit her.

She wanted him. It doesn't matter that he's a guy. It's got nothing to do with that.

Everyone puts so much emphasis on what it is that you like – everyone was obsessed categories. Not a lot of people understand that you can't help who you want. If a person sees a shirt that they want, they'll buy it, it doesn't matter what shop it came from. It's the same with people. It doesn't matter what they have, it's who they are that counts.

Santana knows that she likes girls and wants to fuck them and have relationships with them. But can she really stand there and deny the attraction she feels towards Sebastian? She wasn't raised to be an idiot.

…

"So, what was it you wanted to talk about? Because if you're just going to stand there, I have other things that I can be getting too."

He was lying. He had nowhere to be. And even if he did, he wouldn't go. It was taking every ounce of his strength and pride not to pull the girl towards him and kiss her senseless. She was stunning, purely and utterly gorgeous. He wasn't eloquent and the words that came up in his mind were never going to be good enough for her.

But he was pretty sure that no one had ever had hair that beautiful.

He didn't even stop to worry about wanting her. It wasn't his decision anymore. He wanted to fuck her. Maybe just to control her, but mostly because he wanted to.

And, being one that had never denied himself the things in life he wanted, he wasn't about to start now.

She was smirking at him, but her eyes were wide as if she was thinking the same as him. "What? Got a mani-pedi appointment to fix those jaggy, hurty nails of yours?" She said in a babying tone, mocking him to his face. It was different than through texts, the insults sunk in more when he could see how her lips shaped the words and how her tongue flicked against her teeth as she spoke.

How would that tongue feel against–

Don't loose your cool now Sebastian.

"I suppose I'll see you there, getting those rats that you're trying to pass off as eyebrows waxed."

"You just like the idea of me being in pain you little psycho now don't you?"

"One of several idea's I've had about you. Most of them end up with you screaming."

"You're the one screaming Smythe."

And there it was. Stalemate. They both knew that what they wanted went against what the other had come to realise about themselves. Could they really go against that? For a fuck?

Sebastian took a step towards her and caught her hand, bring it up to rest on his shoulder, while his other arm wrapped around her waist. She didn't try to stop him, breathing in shallow, almost frightened breaths. He smirked at that: he'd made her nervous.

"Scared Satan?" he murmured quietly, his nickname for her falling easily off his tongue, even though the parking lot was deserted and there was no one to overhear them. He didn't exactly want their first fuck to be in a dirty lot but what other choice did he have? Take her back to Dalton?

And did he just say first?

There was only going to be one time. Sebastian Smythe never fucks the same thing twice.

Being that close to her made her scent wash over him and it was better than he had imagined, even down to the quick thudding of her heart against his chest. He breathed in, burrowing deeply into that mane of hair.

Heaven.

…

She struggled to form the words, "Of you? You're less scary than Tina when she has one of her breakdowns." Managing to keep from stuttering, she yanked the hair at the back of his head and was proud of herself when he moaned softly.

They stared at each other, neither one trying to hide their lust. They were still trying to pretend that they hated each other, but it wasn't fooling anyone.

Lips parted.

Breath hitched.

Brown eyes getting lost in grey/green seas.

"_I'm a slave 4 U, I can not hold it, I can not control it…"_

Brittany's ringtone spewed out from her cell in her pocket and the pair snapped out of their trance. Sebastian almost looked angry but it cleared from his face and he became the indifferent asshole that Santana had first met. She pulled away from him sheepishly.

What the hell had she been thinking? She wasn't a cheater - any more, she added onto the end of that thought. And not on Brittany. Texts and angry duets were one thing, almost kissing someone was a completely different story. No matter how she felt about Sebastian, she was in a relationship, and she wouldn't hurt Brittany this way.

"Brittany?"

"_No, it's Artie. Santana, you need to get to the hospital. Brittany's had an accident."_

* * *

><p><strong>Let me know what you thought :)x<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**AN - I am continually blown away by the support you guys are giving me for this story, it's becoming something that I didn't even imagine it could be and letting me delve into characters in ways that are so wonderful. All I can say is thank you so much for everyone alerting/favouriting/reviewing this because it really does mean so much to me. So this next part is hopefully something that you can enjoy and I'd love to hear your theories about what's going to happen next and I also hope you don't hate me too much at the end. Thank you so much again and keep being amazing!x**

_**(P.S - The song used in this part is Jessie J's 'Domino' which you can find here: .com/watch?v=lHPU8kvlhLc&list=PL0614D3B643AC39E2&index=1&feature=plpp_video (if that link works) if you are interested in listening to it. I hope that you find the song fitting to the situation.)**_

* * *

><p>Her hair billowed out behind her as she screeched down the sterile, uninviting hallways. Nurses had tried to stop her but instead of going all 'Lima Heights' on them – which she would usually do and had been itching to do, but knew it would only slow up the process of actually getting to see Brittany – she turned on the waterworks. It wasn't really that difficult, she just let her guilt and disgust with herself wash over her and they came.<p>

The idiots fell for it: the distressed 'best friend'. There was some muttering about only being allowed one visitor but between the voices yelling in her head telling her that she should have been with Brittany and that this was all her fault, it was really difficult to focus on anything but getting to see Brittany.

She just needed Brittany, to tell her how sorry she was and how she was going to fix whatever was going on with them. Because Brittany deserved someone that made her happy.

Santana knew that her mascara was smudged around her eyes and her hair would be in a complete disarray by now but there was no time to stop and spruce herself up.

213. Room 213. Her sanity depended on three little numbers that she'd barely listened to the nurse telling her.

Next corridor.

Colourless faces blurred around her, and a feeling of complete hopelessness settled around her. 'Please let Brittany be okay.'

209.

211.

Here. She skidded to a halt outside the glass door and tried to regain her breath. She felt like she hadn't properly breathed since leaving Sebastian: like a metal band had been placed around her windpipe, constricting the flow of air. Sebastian. She shouldn't have left like that.

"_What? Your girlfriend found you secret stash of porn?" he said sarcastically, clearly affronted that she had pulled away from his embrace when he tried to hold her again._

_Her entire body had gone cold. Numb. Brittany was in hospital. Her girlfriend had injured herself while she was out almost kissing gay guys. This was her punishment for almost cheating, and Brittany had paid the price._

_She had to get to the hospital. Now. All thoughts of her arousal and passion for Sebastian were forgotten, he didn't matter right now. _

"_Satan? Where are you going?" He was shouting after her as she raced to her car and flung the door open. _

_Turning back to look at him, she felt twinges of regret but was mostly just consumed with hating herself for not having the strength to be in a monogamous relationship. She frowned at him and bit back, "Away from you. We're idiots for thinking that there could be anything between us. There's nothing. We're nothing. And we're never going to be."_

_She let the door slam shut before he could see that first tear rolling down her face._

She didn't have the mental capacity now to worry about him. She needed to focus on Brittany.

Beautiful, pure and perfect Brittany.

Santana finally gained to courage to look through the glass window. She was propped up on two pillows, her blonde hair falling around her face angelically. She had stitches above her left eye and a gash along the corresponding cheek. Somehow the bruising didn't make her ugly: it made her radiance and inner beauty shine through. Her eyes settled on the bandage that strapped her left arm firmly across her chest.

She was smiling. Santana felt the band around her throat loosen and disappear and she almost let out a whoop of joy. Brittany was okay. She wasn't bloody and mangled like all of the scenarios in her mind had been telling her. She wasn't going to lose her, not after everything that they'd said – or hadn't said.

Maybe they weren't on the best of terms but she still cared whether she lived or died. Had she seriously climbed onto the roof to retrieve Lord Tubbington? And came away from the fall with only a broken arm and a few head stitches?

This was why Santana needed to protect her, because if not, Brittany just acted out on whims. She probably hadn't realised that Lord Tubbington would have managed to get back down the way he'd gotten up. Or, at least, that she should have called the fire brigade to bring him down.

She focused back on the room and realised who Brittany was laughing and smiling at. Artie. She could feel anger rising up like bile but forced herself to calm down. Artie had, after all, been the one to call the ambulance that had inevitably saved Brittany from further damage. And had called Santana. She owed him for looking after Brittany.

Although what he'd been doing at her house at seven at night was something that made hairs on the back of her neck stand up. But who was she to judge when she herself had been out in some dingy parking lot with Sebastian. Someone who had already caused too many problems in their relationship. And to Santana's sanity.

All at once, Artie was leaning forwards, so close that his horrendous 3D cinema glasses had to be pressing against Brittany's nose. She was blushing deeply and intertwining their hands together.

They just had to be talking. No need to suspect that-

Their lips met.

WHAT?

She was kissing him. Not just a friendly peck either but a fully blown 'I want you' kiss. She'd kissed Brittany while she and Artie had been dating last year but that – she had told (and semi-convinced) herself – hadn't been making Brittany cheat on Artie because neither of them had come to terms with their sexuality yet. It was just messing around.

She knew that the excuse was feeble and weak, but she needed something to cling onto that wouldn't make her feel like she'd been the swaying point in the 'Bartie' relationship. It had been wrong, she knew that, but it wasn't as if she had forced herself upon Brittany. It had been entirely her decision.

This year Santana had promised herself that she'd try to be better and, since she couldn't tone down the snarkiness and her bitchy – and totally hilarious and true – comments about Berry and the Lumberjack, Brittany would be her salvation. She'd made sure that her cheating days were behind her.

'Not that far behind.' That damn voice in the back of her mind really need to grow itself an asshole big enough so it could shove it's head up it's own ass.

Brittany cheating on her had never crossed her mind. She'd trusted her. Inexplicably and probably a little foolishly. Whatever she and Sebastian had, she hadn't cheated.

'Yet.'

"Fuck off!" She growled under her breath.

How long had this been going on? A day? Didn't look like it. A week? A month? How many times had Brittany really been going to meet Artie when she'd said she'd had dance rehearsal, or her mom was taking her go-carting.

Her insides were breaking, smashing and tearing and destroying everything that Santana had built around herself. Brittany didn't love her.

And fuck that hurt.

Tears were blurring her vision and her mouth felt dry as if she'd been on a week long bender. After everything, the hope and the worry and the stress, nothing ever worked out for her. She was always going to be the one that was a disappointment. Never enough for anyone.

She wanted to go into the room and scream. Then demand to know why she hadn't been enough. However, she couldn't. If Brittany was happy – if that troll made her happy – she had to leave it.

If it had been any other situation she would have scolded herself for going soft. But Brittany had always been the one exception to Santana's world view.

Retreating, she watched the pair pull apart and Brittany's eye flutter open, looking straight into Santana's. Whatever she saw in them made her pale even more than Santana thought was possible.

Fight or flight. Always her rule. Hardly ever needed the latter.

This time she clung to it, and fled the corridor, willing the burning shame in those blue eyes to blot themselves away from her view.

…

Bodies pressed against him, slick with sweat and one thing only on their minds: sex. The steady thump of the music eradicated all of his wandering thoughts. Some guy with spiky blonde hair was grinding against him from the front while someone in leather danced against him from behind. His nostrils were flooded with the heavy scent of alcohol mixed with sweat and raging hormones.

He'd sometimes wondered how his fake I.D got him into clubs like these but quickly stopped when he found his new target for the night. Someone who wouldn't reject him, wouldn't even think about it. Someone who's cock twitched into action the very moment that he swayed his hips to the beat of the music. Someone who could make his blood race and dull the feeling of emptiness inside.

'_Deefiile'_ was that place.

He was sober. Which was a first. But even with a clear mind, the pulsing lights overhead made his vision blurry and his head spin. This was what he needed. Where he belonged.

Throwing his head towards the ceiling, he let out a laugh that he supposed to the dancers around him sounded carefree and thankful, but the crack at the end told him that he was kidding himself. Even in the crowded room, every single person who didn't have male genitalia was Santana, her face the only thing he could see. He wanted to scream, curse the day – had it really only been yesterday? It seemed like an age ago – that he'd met her.

'Santana' was walking towards him, shaking her hair out and winking at him suggestively. He blinked, forcing his mind to notice that her eyes were deep green and her hips too wide. It wasn't her.

He didn't know why she'd gotten under his skin so much, but maybe because she was making him question everything about himself, that he needed to see her and couldn't get her out of his mind. The girl – because he was able to see clearly that it wasn't Santana now – was probably beautiful by anyone else's standards but she paled in comparison to Satan herself. She did nothing for him. Neither did the group of giggling, drunk girl friends that danced behind her, pushing her forwards with cat-calls.

The guy behind him was rubbing a hand down the inside of his leg and Sebastian turned to capture his mouth in a demanding kiss. It was hot and heady and set blood rushing straight to his cock.

But it wasn't enough.

…

She hadn't known where else to go: going home and crying her eyes out was too tragic, too clichéd, and she really couldn't face going to see one of the other glee club members. Suddenly she felt an overwhelming feeling of loneliness. Without Brittany, she really didn't have many other people in her life to confide anything in. The closest to another best friend would be Quinn but even then…

'You don't need anyone else. You've always managed fine on your own.' She told herself crossly, doubting even that.

She needed somewhere to forget. Somewhere where the ignored texts from Brittany could become a hazy memory. Somewhere where there were people to eradicate the crushing feeling of being alone. Somewhere to get lost.

The amount of bodies in _Deefiile_ was close to bursting and she'd been worried for a moment about getting in, but her trusty fake I.D and other assets had managed to get her ass through the door. The music was blaring, as in, Santana could feel the end of her hair vibrating it was that loud. People of every gender and sexuality were either getting drunk, high or off.

Perfect.

Quickly checking in her coat, she first headed straight to the bar to order three shots and, after downing them, made a beeline for the dance floor, her throat burning. They parted for her, some marvelling at the way her sheer black tee was clinging to her chest, others turning away envious. This was what she was used to. People desiring her. She could have anyone she wanted.

Brittany hadn't wanted her, hadn't loved her enough. In her mind, they were over. And there was a part of her that hoped that Brittany would be happy with Artie, the part that had only ever wanted to see Brittany contented and loved. Now she was.

But she didn't want to think about Brittany, or Artie, or anyone else. She wanted to focus on the sensations of the girl who was pressing up against her. Feel how soft her skin was and how when the flashing lights caught her eyes, flecks of green shined.

Like Sebastian's.

She didn't want the girl against her body, no matter how gorgeous she was with a blaze of red hair and full lips. She wanted Sebastian. Now.

And now there was nothing stopping her. Her cheating clause was out. She was free to do what she wished. He wouldn't want to see her now, not after how she'd acted. God, she was acting like the pathetic girl from Twilight, unable to make up her own mind and flitting between two people.

A new song began and Santana couldn't help but laugh when the spotlight began to swoosh around the dance floor. Bodies illuminated, showing various expressions of lust and drunkenness.

'_I'm feeling sexy and free. Like glitter's raining on me.'_

Also those bright green flecked eyes. But that wasn't-

Sebastian.

'_You're like a shot of pure gold. I think I'm 'bout to explode.'_

He was here. Right when she needed him. Sighing in relief and dangerously close to actually screaming at her internal voice saying, 'You don't want him. You're gay. Don't go over there.', she planted a sloppy kiss on the red-head and took a gulp of the drink in her hand, knowing that she was going to need a bit more than courage to face him, and began to weave her way through the crowd.

Dancing and grinding and kissing. His body teeming with sweat but looking irresistible, cheeks flushed and hair tousled.

Yes. Santana would have him.

…

'_I can taste the tension like a cloud of smoke in the air.'_

Another 'Santana' was making her way towards him. Was he giving off straight vibes tonight? Or just desperate. 'It isn't her.' He reminded himself and began a process of blinking and shaking his head, trying to scrape away he veil between his imaginations and the real girl before him.

'_Now I'm breathing like I'm running 'cause you're taking me there.'_

It wouldn't shift.

"Fuck." He moaned, realising that he was actually going crazy. He guy growled in assent, thinking that Sebastian had given him an order, and started to stroke him through his jeans.

"Bit public isn't it? To be partaking in such acts. I thought you had a bit of class to you Smythe." Sneered 'Santana'. Jesus Christ, she even sounded like Satan. What was wrong with him?

'_Don't you know, you spin me out of control.'_

'Santana' was staring at him and for the first time he noticed that her dark eyes had dark smudges beneath them and her voice had wavered slightly, like she'd been crying.

The light bulb dinged in his mind. This was actually Satan in front of him, not just his lustful mind projecting. Realisation must have crossed his face because she scowled and shouted over the music, "Well really if you're that unhappy to see me I'd be as well dancing with balls for brains here."

'_We can do this all night, turn this club skin tight, baby come on.'_

"What are you doing here Satan? Reunion with your lesbian lover not go to well? Come running back to see if I'll still have you?." He seemed to have regained his sarkiness now that she was here. Why was that? Did that mean he actually-

No. Sebastian Smythe cares for no one. He sucks, fucks then chucks. Mostly in that order.

A flicker of pure pain, anger, betrayal and resignation crossed over her features but was immediately replaced by her trademark bitch scowl. Had he been right? Had something happened?

Guilt trying to wash over him but he forced it down, making himself uncaring.

'_Pull me like a bass drum, sparkin' up a rhythm, baby come on.'_

"Just dance with me asshole. Or do I need to get the DJ to play Smooth Criminal again so I can whip your pathetic tush."

"You can whip me anytime babe."

The guy was forgotten and everything was once again Satan. She was glowing, actually glowing with radiance even with the sweat shining off of her forehead. Her hands found his neck and he latched onto her hips.

The storm within him quietened and fizzled out. All the anger at her rejection and the confusion over wanting her just died away, it was like it had never existed when he had her in his arms.

'_Rock my world into the sunlight. Make this dream the best I've ever known._

_Dirty dancing in the moonlight. Take me down like I'm a domino.'_

He thought that her blonde girlfriend – ex-girlfriend? – had been a good dancer, but he doubted that she would be able to pull of the bump and grind as well as Satan was. She managed to have every part of his body touching her apart from his mouth and – more importantly – his cock and still make him feel more satisfied than any other dancer he'd been with tonight.

Sebastian ignored the feeling in his gut that this was wrong, that he shouldn't want this, because all he wanted to do was keep Santana this close to him and keep that smile playing on her lips.

…

'_Every second is a highlight. When we touch don't ever let me go._

_Dirty dancing in the moonlight. Take me down like I'm a domino'_

He felt amazing. Wonderful. Right. His skin smelled strong of sweat and desire and she bathed in it. They were equals, each worried about what this meant for themselves, both trying to get the upper hand on the other, neither caring about the damage caused.

This was why she fitted with Sebastian: they had the same mindset, and were both arrogant, self-assured assholes. She was a bitch of the highest degree and finally she had someone who wouldn't act self-righteous and preachy about it. Sebastian would just make some other flippant remark about how her insult hadn't been good enough.

Maybe she still wanted to hate him, because hating him would be easier than letting herself think that she wanted to be around him. But she now couldn't deny that Sebastian understood her, in a way that she never thought that anyone would.

She started to sing along with the music, feeling lighter inside although her head was beginning to spin – guess the shots were coming back to haunt her now - , _"You got me losing my mind, my heart beats out of time."_

"_I'm seeing Hollywood stars, you stroke me like a guitar."_ Sebastian answered her, staring her straight in the eyes and she felt heat tingle through her body. He dropped a hand slightly, teasing lightly against the side of her thigh.

She ran her fingers through his soft hair and tugged gently, knowing the effect it would have but was shocked when his hand instead snaked around to pinch her ass. Smirking at him, she thrust her chest as his and watched as his dilating eyes followed the movement of her breasts. In retaliation, his hands found the underside of her thighs and he lifted her up so that she was wrapped around his torso. It was a game. It always would be between them.

And it was a game that had now put their 'parts' within about two centimetres of each other.

Breathing heavily and never once breaking eye contact they both sang to each other, _"I can taste the tension like a cloud of smoke in the air. Now I'm breathing like I'm running 'cause you're taking me there. Don't you know, you spin me out of control."_

The tension between them was palpable and they were both waiting it out, trying to see how long it would take for the other to snap and close the distance, letting them feel what they were both dying for and had been since their showdown at Dalton. However, they were both masters at teasing and neither relented.

Sebastian smirked again and sang along with the – very appropriate – lyrics, _"We can do this all night, turn this club skin tight, baby come on."_

He crooned at her. Actually crooned at her. She struggled not to laugh in his face, because even that slight movement could close the gap and even though her tight leggings were soaked through with want – because she'd actually not worn panties to meet him earlier just like he'd asked – she didn't want to be the one to give in.

"_Pull me like a bass drum, sparkin' up a rhythm, baby come on."_ She accentuated her point by pulling away slightly and by then either Sebastian had given in or was just too desperate for friction that he brought her hips slamming back down and against him.

She could have used any number of stupid clichés to explain the feeling of Sebastian against her, but really it would have been a waste of breath. Heat coursed through her along with a flooding feeling of 'Yes! Yes! Thank God!'.

He let out his breath in one huge gush and pressed his forehead against hers, clearly that was what he had been wanting all night. Had Santana known that it would come to this when she set out to meet him tonight? She would be lying to say that she hadn't thought about it – fucking him had been the only thought to go through her head all day – but she hadn't expected being so close to him would feel this good.

Some other feeling was trying to battle it's way to the surface however, and somehow she felt like it wasn't as good as the one coursing through her now.

'_Rock my world into the sunlight. Make this dream the best I've ever known._

_Dirty dancing in the moonlight. Take me down like I'm a domino.'_

…

They hadn't kissed yet. It was the last barrier that they had to cross. Sebastian was mesmerised by the fullness and the deepness of the red of Satan's lips. They were parted slightly, pulling in uneven breaths, and all he wanted to do was run his tongue along them.

Her legs wound themselves tighter around him and he let out another shaky breath. The dancers around them weren't even concerned about their positioning, there was much worse going on elsewhere.

How could he have thought that this wasn't right? There was no other place in the world he'd rather be right now – not even in Johnny Depp's bed. And it was because he had her.

If someone had told him a week ago he'd be rock hard from dancing with a girl, he'd have punched them in the face.

'_Every second is a highlight. When we touch don't ever let me go._

_Dirty dancing in the moonlight. Take me down like I'm a domino'_

He began to walk forwards, stumbling slightly as he wasn't used to the added weight, pushing past the writhing dancers and pushing Santana against one of the cool walls.

'_Oh baby baby got me feeling so right. _

_Oh baby baby dancing in the moonlight.'_

Her hands found his cheeks and he was engulfed in her sweet scent as she breathed against his skin. He tightened his hold of her body with one hand, while letting the other stroke up her ribcage and settle teasingly along the top curve of her breast.

'_Oh baby baby got me feeling so right. _

_Oh baby baby dancing in the moonlight.'_

Their noses were bumping against each other and Sebastian was really cursing how tight his jeans were. Santana's chest was lifting and falling so slowly that Sebastian was hypnotised.

'_Oh baby baby got me feeling so right. _

_Oh baby baby dancing in the moonlight.'_

She pulled his chin back up to focus on his face. The hardness was gone, the bitterness and the anger. The desire and arousal were still present and Sebastian understood now that she had separated the pair. Her features looked oddly sensitive and vulnerable, her eyes bigger and more scared than ever before.

It should have freaked him out, her looking at him like that.

'_Oh baby baby got me feeling so right.'_

But it didn't.

Their lips met hungrily, searingly passionate and expressing things that neither could have articulated. Sebastian's grip on reality slipped and he drowned in everything Santana offered. Her lips parted, allowing him access but instead she took control and dove into him. She tasted like nothing he had ever had the good fortune to taste before – and that was saying something after living in Paris.

For once, their tongues weren't battling against one another, but moving as one. Santana let out a moan that travelled straight to Sebastian's cock. He never wanted it to end.

'_Rock my world into the sunlight. Make this dream the best I've ever known._

_Dirty dancing in the moonlight. Take me down like I'm a domino. _

_Every second is a highlight. When we touch don't ever let me go._

_Dirty dancing in the moonlight. Take me down like I'm a domino.'_

But it had to. They broke apart, breathing heavily and neither moving very far. A smile pulled at Sebastian's lips but the dizzy, queasy look that passed over Santana's face quickly quelled it.

"What? Don't tell me that my kisses made you nauseous?" he said joking, but placed her back onto the floor and kept a steady grip on her arm.

"Feel weird…" she said, but it was long, slurred, drawn out. Panic started to bloom in his chest.

"Satan, stop messing around." He had meant to come out as an order but it sounded pleading, like a child asking it's mother something.

She stared blankly at him and her legs gave way beneath her as if her muscles had given out, her head lolling forwards like a doll. Sebastian was completely scared shitless now and knew that she wasn't kidding. She couldn't be that drunk, she'd have shown signs of it earlier. This had to be something else. Drugs. She'd drank something spiked.

He didn't have time to question it. Santana needed a doctor and fast. Thank God he hadn't been drinking tonight, and he carefully lifted her into his arms, frantically trying to keep her awake, "Santana, stay with me."

Her eyelid's fluttered open, "Tired…"

His heart was thrumming in his chest as he manoeuvred his way around the dance floor and out of the door of the club, not stopping to grab his coat, it wasn't important. Fear was rushing through him but he forced himself to stay calm as freaking out wasn't going to help Santana.

"Satan, I need you to stay with me okay." He said again, this time only receiving a grunt as a response.

Deciding to play to her stubborn side as he raced toward his car in the blackness of the night, "Satan, if you fall asleep on me I'll know that I won the duel yesterday."

"You couldn't…beat me…if…no…voice." It was garbled and quiet but right now it was the best thing he had ever heard Santana say.

He tried to laugh but instead it came out as a strained chuckle, he pulled open the passenger door and eased Santana inside, "I'll be right back. Don't you dare fall asleep."

"Don't…tell…what to….asshole…"

Literally jumping over the hood of his black SUV, he wrenched the driver door open and flung himself into the car. His hands were shaking so badly that he struggled to get the keys in the ignition.

He reached out for one of Santana's hands and pressed against her wrist until her found her slowing heartbeat. Dread began to eat away at him and his voice came out shaky even though he needed to be strong. "Why don't we sing Satan? It'll give me a chance to beat you again."

She mumbled something that he couldn't catch and he felt like there was a clock ticking above his head, counting down the minutes he had to get her to someone who could help.

The nearest hospital was fifteen miles away. His house, complete with his doctor mother who kept ever known medicine in her study, was three. Really the choice was simple.

He knew that he wasn't thinking rationally but he was blinded by sheer panic that the fire inside beautiful Santana was going to die out. He couldn't let that happen, he couldn't deal with the guilt. This was protecting his own skin. Even to his panic addled mind it was a feeble excuse for the wave of protectiveness he felt, but it couldn't be directed at her. It couldn't.

All he could do was break every speed limit and hope against hope that the little pulse against his forefinger wouldn't give out.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Again, let me know what you thought :)x<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N - I'll start off with a massive 'THANK YOU' and 'I LOVE YOU' to each and every one of you who are sticking with this little story that's become something I didn't think it could and those who are alerting/favouriting/reviewing because you guys just put the biggest smiles on my face and it makes me really happy to know I have such support from you all on this. I would have updated earlier but somehow I couldn't log in and this is the first time FF has let me so here we are with Part 4. I really hope that you enjoy this and that you can understand where I'm going with it and hopefully not hate me too much. I really do promise that the next parts are going to be super tense and (fingers crossed) really good and 'wanky' as our beloved Satan says. (The song used in this part is 'I Should Go' by Levi Kreis which you should go and check out because it's amazing and I hope you find it fits with what Sebastian is feeling.) Okay here we go, enjoy x**

* * *

><p>It was so difficult to keep her eyes open. Nothing would stay in focus and the pounding in her head and the ringing in her ears didn't make her want to pay attention. She wanted to sleep. Just sleep<p>

Nevertheless, someone was talking to her, forcing her to stay awake. A wave of nausea came over her as she tried to remember who was with her. Was it Brittany? Brittany always took care of her. Sweet, innocent Brittany.

Images of the blonde passed through her mind, jumbling together to make some sort of multi-coloured rainbow. She wished they would slow down: it was making her even dizzier. Suddenly only one image remained. Brittany kissing Artie.

Oh. That's right. They weren't together anymore. So who was holding her hand and practically yelling in her ear.

She wished they would shut up because none of this was making her feel any better. Opening her eyes slowly and with much difficulty as they felt like they had weights attached to them, she garbled something along the lines of, "Shut your whiny voice up."

A narrow face. Soft looking brown hair. Green flecked eyes. Sebastian. Sebastian was saving her. Because she knew that she didn't feel well and that something was wrong. But all she wanted to do was sleep.

"Let me sleep." She whispered and leaned her head on his shoulder, although the action felt like it had taken all of her strength just to carry out. Her body was responding too slowly and, if the pounding in her head didn't make it difficult to think, she would have been worried about what that meant. Was she dying?

Sebastian wouldn't let that happen. She was sure of it, just as sure that they were more than enemies through the kiss they'd shared. She was safe.

…

Frantically, he crashed open the front door with a limp Santana in his arms and screamed out for his mother. His mind was rushing at a mile a minute and he had no idea what to do now. Get Santana home. That had been his objective. He felt useless and fearful not knowing what to do.

'Keep Santana alive.'

Yes. Yes, good. That was next. He felt like a child, only operating in single sentences but he wasn't sure if his heart could take much more than that. Behind whatever wall where Sebastian kept all of his feelings locked away – ones that he never used: care, hope, worry – he could feel them threatening to break free.

"MOM! HELP ME!" he screeched again, barging into her study and gently placing Santana down on the couch with shaking hands.

Turning from whatever paper she was studying, Dana Smythe took one look at her son, eyes full of emotions that she hadn't seen in years, and at the coffee colour skinned girl on her leather couch, before kick-starting into action.

"What happened?" she asked, reaching out for the girl and checking her pulse.

Sebastian couldn't think, couldn't speak. He just stared blankly at Santana, who looked nearly lifeless on the couch and fell to his knees.

This is my fault. All my fault.

…

"…suspected severe reaction to Rohypnol…"

"…urine samples came back positive…"

"…date-rape drugs at _Deefiile_…"

"…staff being questioned…"

Sebastian only took in snippets of the information that he had been told. His mom had called ahead to the hospital to tell them she was coming in with a suspected drug spiking victim and to have the necessary equipment ready. She'd told him that he'd done the right thing by bringing Santana to her but he could tell that she was lying. 'Should have brought her straight to the hospital', he'd heard one of the nurses murmur under her breath.

Now they were alone, just he, looking horrendous with sticking up hair and haunted eyes and Satan, clad in a study hospital gown and lying motionless on the bed. She was sleeping. Just sleeping. He knew that, but she was too still, too – for want of a better word – dead looking.

Reaching over, he tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear and took her hand. It wasn't meant to go like this. They were supposed to have gone somewhere (not that it would have mattered) and had wild, passionate sex and be done with it. Fineto. Goodbye. Done.

Santana wasn't supposed to have taken a spiked drink and ended up here, making him feel things that he didn't want to. He wanted to be angry at her and shout at her for making him care, but one look at her gorgeous face and he knew that he couldn't.

It was the look of curiosity filled with long lost hope from his mother that was really getting to him. That was what he had been most dreading from all of this: the looks from his parents (if they ever found out) because maybe, just maybe, their son could still be normal. Could still be that perfect, rich little straight boy that they'd always dreamed he'd be.

They'd put him through hell, never actually admitting to his face that they were disappointed but when he began to get referred to as 'the boy' as if he had some sort of disease, he'd known that they were never going to accept him. Parent issues, isn't it so clichéd that that would be the reason he was a sarcastic bastard.

He sighed and rested his forehead against their intertwined fingers. He couldn't be that boy for them. Just because some narcotic lesbian had managed to make him care, didn't mean that he was straight and could go out on all of those prearranged dates with the daughters of his parents friends.

"Why'd I have to meet you, huh? Couldn't you have just stayed away?" he whispered, knowing that she couldn't hear him and wouldn't for around about another six hours until the drugs left her system.

He's felt blinding rage the moment his mother had told him that Santana had been drugged. He wanted to find the person, the sick, twisted motherfucker who had done this as beat him to a pulp. The police had been alerted and the club was in lockdown. His mother had assured him that they would find the person, and that they would pay for it.

The American legal system wasn't punishment enough for the person who had done this to Santana. Yes, she wasn't in any danger now, but if Sebastian hadn't been there to take care of her, some guy (or girl) could have easily preyed on her and done unspeakable things to her. And who knows what she'd remember when she awoke? Would she even remember kissing him? And how had she managed to drink something spiked anyway? Sebastian knew that she was smart enough to not leave her drinks unattended.

Questions for when Santana was awake to give them answers. There was no use in fretting over them now. He just wanted to see her smile. No, not even that. He wanted to see that smirk on her face matched with her bedroom eyes. Wanted an insult to pass through her lips. Wanted to kiss her again.

He was screwed.

Suddenly a song appeared in his head, among the confusion and the pain and he knew that he had to sing. This was how the Warbler's sorted something out wasn't it? Stupid gay-face Kurt had sang about his dead bird, or so he'd heard. Well now was as good a chance as any to get his feelings out and Santana sure as hell wasn't able to hear him. No one to listen. No one to judge.

Quietly he began, barely more than a whisper, but he squeezed Santana's hand as if needing it to be the lifeline to get himself through this mess.

"_Here we are, isn't it familiar?_

_Haven't had someone to talk to in such a long time._

_And it's strange, all we have in common,_

_And your company was just the thing I needed tonight._

_Somehow I feel I should apologise, _

'_Cause I'm just a little shaken by what's goin' on inside._

_I should go, before my will gets any weaker,_

_And my eyes begin to linger longer than they should.  
><em>

_I should go, before I lose my sense of reason,  
><em>

_And this hour holds more meaning than it ever could.  
><em>

_I should go. I should go.  
><em>

_Baby, I should go."_

The lyrics used to be meaningless to him, some guy pining over another guy's girl, but now they meant more than anyone else could know. Santana was exactly like him, someone who was cut from the same cloth and knew what it was like to feel like an outsider. She was a bitch because the world had brought her up that way. She was someone who could understand the enormity of the indecision that battled within him.

He didn't know what to do with any of what he was feeling, not without talking to Santana, and even that would be difficult. Sebastian didn't talk about things, he wasn't good with fragile comments and meaningful words. Feelings were something that weak people had.

But what he was feeling didn't feel weak, and no weak person could ever deal with the anger and fear. Watching Santana pulling in breath after breath he could feel the old Sebastian melting away, no matter how much that scared him to the very core.

"_It's so hard keeping my composure, _

_And pretend I don't see how your body curves beneath your clothes._

_And your laugh, it's pure and unaffected._

_It frightens me to know so well the place I shouldn't go."_

He was going to have to grow up, going to have to deal with what he felt for her. What would be the point in all of this, if, after they fucked, they realised that it was just the chase, the excitement, the forbidden aspect of it all that had made them attracted to each other. What would the point be in baring his soul and allowing someone in for once if it wasn't going to mean anything.

"_I know I gotta take the noble path,_

'_Cause I don't want you to question the intentions that I have._

_I should go, before my will gets any weaker,_

_And my eyes begin to linger longer than they should.  
><em>

_I should go, before I lose my sense of reason,  
><em>

_And this hour holds more meaning than it ever could.  
><em>

_I should go. I should go.  
><em>

_Baby, I should go."_

What were his intentions? Yesterday it had been to possess her. Now… He almost felt like laughing at himself, a person couldn't develop feelings in as little time as a day. Love – although it definitely wasn't that – at first sight didn't exist. He'd hated her.

But had he really? With her dark features, had he just instantly realised that this was someone dangerous to him – dangerous in ways that he maybe hadn't even thought about – and singled her out as someone to destroy?

And now, after what they'd been through, he didn't want to hurt her. He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be okay and kiss her. He wanted to kiss her so badly.

It went against everything that he believed in about himself. Not that he was gay. It wasn't about that. Caring for someone. Wanting to protect and make them happy. These weren't things that he did. Not even for Santana, he couldn't.

"_I don't mean to leave you with a trivial excuse._

_And when you call tomorrow, I'll know what to do."_

He had to leave, clear his head and re-evaluate the situation. He didn't want to leave Santana alone though because couldn't escape the feeling that something terrible was going to happen to her.

Her parents were on their way though, he could just wait until they arrived. She'd be safe with them. All he could feel was guilt but he had to leave. Santana would understand.

"_I should go, before my will gets any weaker,_

_And my eyes begin to linger longer than they should.  
><em>

_I should go, before I lose my sense of reason,  
><em>

_And this hour holds more meaning than it ever could.  
><em>

_I should go. I should go.  
><em>

_Baby, I should go."_

He pressed one more kiss to her cool lips and let their hands fall apart, it would make no sense to complicate things for Santana between her parents and her. Because was their anything there to complicate?

'_Stop. Just be thankful that she's alive. Figure it out in the morning.'_

Sighing again, he stared blankly at the ceiling and wished that everything would just sort itself out.

…

It was Monday. She'd woken up around midday on Thursday and had spent the entire day been interrogated by her parents and the doctors. It hadn't exactly been easy waking up with a splitting sore head and no memory of how you came to be lying in a hospital bed. She remembered the terror and icy feeling of fear when she'd first looked around at her surroundings.

Everyone had been relieved to find that she'd managed to recover so well, had even been able to give the police if not a detailed recount of her time at _Deefiile_, then a useful one. She'd had three shots from the barman directly and then a gulp of a girls drink she'd been dancing with. Apart from receiving a swift scolding about the dangers of drinking unknown substances, the police officers had been rather kind.

It was probably because they thought she would go into shock over the whole situation. The nurses hovered outside her room like nervous birds waiting for her to have an emotional breakdown. She'd been released on Sunday morning, the doctor telling her that she could go to school if she felt able but to take it easy. No Cheerio's practice for at least a week.

She still couldn't believe she'd been drugged. It was one of those horror stories that you always heard people talking about and never expected it to happen to you. If it hadn't been for Sebastian…

Speaking of, she hadn't heard from him since. She'd been told he's brought her to the hospital and stayed with her until her parents had arrived. She didn't want to think about his reasons for staying, but after their kiss, it made a lump rise in her throat.

A song, vaguely familiar and hauntingly sorrowful, had been the main attraction in her dreams for the past four nights. Sometimes she could hear herself singing it, three guesses as to who to. Other times it was the cock-sure asshole that wouldn't leave her mind.

Now it was worse because before she could easily have thought of some reason to hate him. Now she was indebted to him, he'd saved her.

She didn't know what to do with that.

She hadn't texted him and had received nothing in return. Maybe he'd decided that it was all one big mistake and he'd only saved her to save his own conscience. Something about the way his mother, her doctor, had recounted the story, made it seem otherwise.

It wasn't as if she liked him. They had chemistry, obviously, but that didn't mean that she wanted to spend time with him. The eyes that darted towards her phone every two minutes were only checking the time. She wasn't waiting for him, Santana didn't become some floozy from a romantic novel waiting for the hero to swoop in and give her life meaning.

She'd seriously considered going back into school on Monday as no one there knew what had happened: she'd asked if her name could be kept out of any reports in the newspapers and her parents had spread the story that she'd been stricken with chicken pox. Stupid, she knew, but she didn't want to have to deal with their sympathy. She knew she was already going to be facing a hard enough time with the whole 'Bartie' thing anyway. But upon opening her eyes, she'd been swallowed by a feeling of complete dread and exhaustion. She didn't want to face Brittany and her pleading eyes or Artie and his sad but smug smile. In truth all she wanted was…

She couldn't want him. If Sebastian was ignoring her then it meant he's decided that whatever they had was pointless and pathetic. It was. His absence still made her eyes burn and her throat close up.

Stupid Sebastian.

Resigned to staying in her bed all day, she pulled the covers up over her head and tried to muffle the tears that dripped down her nose.

…

'_Turn around.'_

'_Don't do this.'_

'_You can't go in there.'_

'_What are you going to do? Break in? Great way to gain her forgiveness Seb, first class. With brains like that it's no wonder that it's taken you an entire weekend to figure out that it doesn't matter if you like guys because you like Santana. Genius.'_

'_Stop.'_

Sebastian ignored all of the voices in his mind and stared resolutely at the dark brown oak of the Lopez residence's front door. A curving gold 'L' knocker stared back at him. He didn't actually know why he was risking being late for his morning classes, or why he'd driven from Dalton to Lima just to see if Santana was in or not.

Well, he did. But he was trying not to think about the reasons. Focus on breathing and blinking.

Was she even in? Had she gone to school today despite needing bed rest? If he knew her – which he didn't – he'd say she'd have gone just to give a 'fuck you' to the doctors. He laughed lightly at that thought. Brilliant, stubborn Santana. He'd thought he was going to lose her and now, because of his general ass-iness, he probably had.

He needed to see her, of that he was certain. Everything would make sense when talking to her, he'd be able to tell her that he wanted to continue with…their kiss. The kiss that had left him arching into his mattress more times than he could count.

Gulping, he rapped on the knocker and took out his phone.

From Sebastian: I'm outside. Let me in.

Seventeen seconds passed, Sebastian didn't think he breathed throughout any of them.

From Santana: Are we in a Swedish vampire film now?

From Sebastian: Just let me in Satan.

From Santana: Nothing for days and you want inside my home?

He heard banging around upstairs and smiled to himself, she still wanted to see him. That was a start. Footsteps sounded on stairs and he could vaguely make out a shape in one of the frosted glass windows in her door.

From Sebastian: Been missing me?

From Santana: Miss the sound of your incessant whiny voice? I don't think so.

From Sebastian: I doubt you can even remember the sound of it.

From Santana: Well I haven't heard it since before waking up in hospital.

From Santana: Without you...

Those three little dots held everything that he was afraid of.

From Sebastian: I can explain.

From Santana: Three words every girl wants to hear.

From Sebastian: I have food. We needta talk. Need tosee you.

A soft laugh. He hated the way his heart sped up at the sound. The door handle shook and the door swung open.

Clad only in an oversized 'Paramore' tee-shirt with her hair falling in messy waves, she leaned against the door and smiled, "You better have food."

He mutely held up the bag of donuts he'd grabbed on his way over and simply took her in. She was just as perfect as the last time, her toned legs gleaming in the watery sunlight and lips a deep cherry red. Except the puffiness of her eyes and the innocent, vulnerable look about them.

"Going to stand there all day after you begged to get in? By the way, little piece of advice: don't give up the day job because making up words isn't really working for you." And with that she plucked the bag from his hands and sauntered back up the stairs.

'_Well move then you idiot.'_

…

They were just going to talk. That was all. He wasn't sitting on the edge of her bed looking like he'd stepped off a runway and inhaling a sugary donut because he liked her. He felt sorry for her. Had to.

Still, Santana pulled her bed covers up so that they covered most of her body, before taking a donut. He'd brought her food, not great food, but a sign of compassion none the less.

When was she going to stop lying to herself?

"So? Just here to see my bedroom or?" She began, not entirely trusting her voice anymore because the situation seemed too familiar, too nice and too easy to sink into. She could see them playing video games together and arguing about what to watch on T.V. She could also see him naked and writhing beneath her.

His eyes flashed suggestively, "I'd had seen it sooner or later. You can't resist me Satan."

"Please, I'd rather face the mutts in Hunger Games rather than have anything to do with you."

Lies. Lies. Lies. Her mind chanted, and she tried to ignore the way that the morning sunlight glinted off of his pale skin, illuminating (just for once) the boy behind the façade.

His hand reached out to take hers but she shuffled away, finally realising that they were going to have to talk about the giant elephant in the room.

"Why didn't you text me?"

"Why didn't you text me?

The same question from both mouths, hung in the pregnant air. Santana was scared, scared to move in case he ran away again, scared to ask herself why she hadn't had the courage to reach out to him, scared to understand the fury running through her at his accusation.

"You rescue me. Sing to me. And then leave? What am I meant to do with that Sebastian?" she asked him, refusing to back down. At the end of this, something was going to be resolved, even if she had to force it from herself.

She had to know what this was, if it was just a game to him then fine she'd play. But if it meant more…

"I don't know. I couldn't come back." His eyes were filled with something, regret? She didn't understand, what had happened that had made him so distant?

"Why not?"

Two words. And it just burst out of him.

"I didn't know what to do okay. How am I meant to go from smug, gay bastard to live-saving, Santana liking, emotional train wreck? What could I do?" His face looked pained and Santana could see that he'd obviously been wrestling with himself over this. 'Santana liking'. He'd admitted it. Gone were the doubts over if it was okay to like a girl if your gay. He wanted her.

It terrified her. "And you don't think that waking up in that hospital with strange people poking around at you and finding out you've been drugged is difficult? Even without the whole you and me thing, I could have used someone to help me. And I had/have no one."

Sebastian looked like he'd been punched in the gut. She didn't want to hurt him and didn't want his sympathy. But he looked so forlorn and torn up that she began to doubt what her motives were for going on the offensive.

It was because she couldn't face the reality.

…

As hard as she tried to hide it, she needed someone. And Sebastian had let her down. The thought settled deep in the pit of his stomach and disgust seeped through him. He had been selfish and scared and ran away from someone who needed him.

The first person who'd ever actually needed him. And he'd ran.

"You have me." But even as the words hit his ears, he heard the futility of them, Santana had her guards up again. 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' or something like that. Maybe his likeness of Santana to Satan wasn't so far off now.

"Didn't seem like it. And why would I want you anyway?" She crossed her arms over her body protectively, but Sebastian could see how much he'd hurt her.

He scooted closer to her and dismissed his ingrained sense of 'don't show your emotions', "Because I'm the only person that knows how lonely it is when you push everyone else away and pretend like you don't need anyone else."

His parent's opinions didn't matter to him anymore, it wasn't like they influenced anything else in his life. So what if he liked Santana. That didn't mean that they could control his life now. He was still going to like guys. After Satan.

"I don't need you."

Sweet words and baring emotions weren't going to make her see, that's not how she operated. Sebastian could feel his frustration building, why couldn't she just understand?

"Don't pretend like you don't feel it too. The mighty Satan's emotions are running wild, so what does she do? Oh, that's right, let's just act like a bitch because I'd end up disappointing whoever it is that helps me anyway. Better to hurt them now rather than later. Well, it doesn't work on me."

He was breathing heavily and was dangerously close to losing himself in her liquid eyes that flashed angrily, "You think you are so special Smythe. You're nothing but a guy who can get his dick sucked so he'll try and get it anywhere else he can."

Trying to beat each other. Always a game.

"You can't keep your girlfriend interested longer than the time it takes her to put on socks in the morning."

Teasing. Hurting.

"You don't know anything about Brittany."

Truth. Reality.

"Well is she here now? Cause I don't see her. No, I see me, a guy who actually isn't put off by your personality trying to make you see that I want to help you."

"I don't need you." Instead of the hard accusation that had came earlier, it was a breathy moan, a denial purely in spite. They were inches from each other. Facing off and neither yielding.

A breath passed between them, both hurt and angry and oh so wanting.

Their lips met and every worry went out of the window. It didn't matter that he'd left or that she was being stubborn. They were kissing, hands intertwined messily in hair and clutching at material. Tongues battled and gave in, while a hand roamed along bare tanned flesh.

He lost himself in everything that was Santana, once again feeling her body pressed against his but this time knowing that she was responding and would remember it. He savoured the way her lips tasted and the dull pain of her biting of his bottom lip. The way her pupils had dilated so that they looked almost purely black and the little hitch in her breath as he pushed her down onto the mattress, his body moulding to her curves.

Everything was tasting and touching and breathy moans. Santana wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer towards her, as if she was afraid that he was going to let her go. Not a chance in hell.

Sweat was beading at the nape of his neck but he found himself not caring when she began to whisper dirtily into his ear. His cock was straining in the tight confinements of his uniform trousers and he was aching for friction but he became sidetracked with Santana's lower tummy. Her skin was so soft and as he sucked against her neck, his hand slipped lazily along her pantie line where he could already tell she was wet.

A hand pushed his hand away and forced him to pay attention, "Wait. Wait. Have you ever actually done this before?"

He looked at her like she was sprouting an extra head, "Sex? Why no, I really wonder what it's like, I mean I've hear that birds and bees really enjoy it!"

She hit him hard with her pillow, "But with a girl?"

Oh. She thought…

"Threesomes are a fantastic practice. You really should try them. It's like where the guy gets to fuck and get fucked at the same time. I know how everything functions if that's what you're worried about."

Of course he'd been with girls before, just not on their own, he didn't know how he'd get it up without a guy being there. Somehow, he didn't think that was going to be a problem with Satan.

"Not worried. Just concerned that you won't be able to satisfy my _big_ needs. I have a very demanding, rather _large_ libido." Her hands trailed along the waistband of his trousers and dipped to cup him through the material, and his brain was ready to short circuit.

All he could look at was her eyes, her beautiful tantalizing eyes. Theoretically, he knew he should be paying attention to the glorious orbs that pressed against his chest but they weren't what made Santana herself. Her eyes did. They showed him everything that she couldn't, wouldn't say.

"I-" But her finger was placed over his lips, her face scrunching in concentration.

Then he heard it, "San? Santana are you here? San?"

The colour drained from Santana's face as she whispered the one name that Sebastian didn't ever want to hear, "Brittany. She's here." She bolted into a sitting position and stared at the door like it was a wild lion.

"How did she get in?" he whispered furiously, working his lips around her finger, "I thought you had broken up."

Guilt passed across her features and she shook her head, "She has a key, for when we needed to be…discreet. And not officially."

That almost made him laugh. Almost. But with a growing hard on and Santana so close to him, he wasn't in the mood to laugh, "Not officially? What, do you need cake and banners or something? Your Glee club really knows how to celebrate pain, but I mean it must be used to it by now."

It was the hurt that flickered in her eyes that made his blood burn. He wanted to hurt the girl that made Satan feel this way and he was ready to bound out of the room before she whispered, "Get in the closet."

"What?"

"Get in the closet."

"Again I go with: what? Are you insane? I'm not hiding in your closet!"

Her pleading eyes turned on him, "Just please Sebastian, she can't see you. Get in the closet."

He couldn't resist those eyes.

If he had been in different situation the irony of Santana stuffing him in a closet would have made him peel with laughter. But, when surrounded by the sensual scent of her clothes in a cramped wardrobe, he didn't really find anything funny.

And he was so hard.

…

"Santana?" A hesitant knock on her bedroom door and suddenly Brittany was in her room, looking slightly sheepish and scared while Santana tried to hide the wetness of her panties with her long shirt.

"What are you doing here Brit?" She didn't want to see her. It was better that she just accepted that they couldn't be together. She didn't want the awkward break-up conversation.

"I came to see if you were okay, Mr Schue said you had pox. Is that like when you collect boxes?"

Why did Brittany have to be so adorable? No. She wouldn't feel sorry for her, it was she that was in the wrong. The hurt and pain of rejection burned within her, and she didn't want to hide anymore. She wanted the truth.

"Don't act innocent Brittany. Why didn't you just tell me you wanted to be with Artie?"

She twisted her hands together and looked at the ground, "I didn't want to hurt you. I love you San."

A harrowing scoff escaped Santana's lips as she processed how Brittany saw their relationship: it was okay to be with other people because she'd been with Santana while dating others. This was her fault. The thought made her numb.

"I want you to be happy Brit. But I can't be around you anymore. Not yet. You cheated on me."

"You said that it wasn't cheating when it was with Artie." Brittany countered and Santana's heart sank, this really was her fault.

But why should she feel bad for something she hadn't done? Why was she trying to be perfect and understanding, when she wasn't? "Things changed. I came out."

Brittany narrowed her eyes and delivered her ultimate blow, "And now you're crawling back in with that Warbler."

No. She knew nothing about Sebastian. She didn't even know she'd been drugged. Brittany didn't care about her anymore.

"You don't know anything about Sebastian." As she realised that she used the same sentence mere minutes ago, she compared her reasons for it.

She'd defended Brittany because it was what she always has done. And because no matter what happened, Brittany would always be her first love.

She'd defend Sebastian because…

'_What's the end of that sentence Santana?'_

Brittany's hands were on her hips and her cheeks were flushed in anger, "You were with him when I got hurt. Don't lie."

"And you were kissing Artie when I dropped everything to visit my girlfriend." Santana shot back. When did they become these people? This just proved that they weren't good together.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't care."

Tears were filling Brittany's eyes but Santana couldn't find it within herself to care. She still wanted Brittany to be happy, but she didn't have to accept it any more. She didn't need her.

"Do you like Sebastian? Is that why you said his name?" Brittany sounded resigned now, but still her curious self even in the face of their break up.

She let the anger build within her, forgetting that he was a literally two metres away and snarled, really just wanting to be alone, "Sebastian means just about as much to me as you do right now. Nothing. Get out Brittany, go be happy with Artie, just leave."

"San-"

"Please."

She still had one thing over Brittany: control. And Santana was done with it, done with pretending like they could work together. She was doing the best thing for them both. Tears would come later, right now it was a case of getting Brittany out so she could just collapse into bed nurse her wounded pride.

"I miss you San."

"You should have thought about that before jumping back into bed with that four eyed loser."

Brittany shook her and just turned away, walking out of the door and – Santana hoped – out of her life at least for now.

She should feel something. Wrecked with heart ache and tears, that's what happened after break ups right? But she didn't.

And if that didn't say everything about her, Santana didn't know what would. Falling less than gracefully back into bed, she burrowed her head under her pillow. One less person to worry about. Got to count for something.

"I mean nothing?"

_Shit._

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><p><em><em>**Let me know what you thought! Your reviews are always the best part about my day :Dx**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N - Okay so I think an apology for taking so long is in order! I am so sorry it's taken me this long to update, I've been so busy with exams at school and then my laptop broke down...excuses I know but all I can say is sorry. I'm also sorry if I haven't replied back to your review (as I said laptop broke) and I just need you to know that I appreciate every single one of you and I love you and I really am grateful that you take the time to give me your feedback because it's helps me, and the characters grow! I am still so blown away by the response to this fic, really I had no idea that I would have this support and I'm so glad that you all like it and I really hope I'm doing you all and the characters justice. Warnings for this part: angst this way comes, and I have used in total four songs (Ashes and Wine by A Fine Frenzy, Seasons of Love and Another Day from the musical R.E.N.T, and Not Over You by Gavin DeGraw, and I honestly suggest listening to these songs because they are amazing, I bow down to their awesomeness!) so I hope that you don't mind and I wonder how many of you will spot the throw-away mention of things to come...Okay so just a huge thank you again to the alerts/favourites/reviews, you guys are so, so wonderful and I love you all! Thank you to Samantha for betaing (I loves you Manfa!) and I hope that you all enjoy and don't hate me!xx**

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><p>It was cramped, stuffy and bloody uncomfortable and it had taken every ounce of restraint not to jump out and defend Santana against the blonde bombshell that claimed to love her. But what good would defending Santana do? It would end up offending her because she didn't need defending, and certainly didn't need a white knight to defend her honour. Especially not Sebastian. So he'd held his tongue and arranged himself so that his trousers weren't so goddamn tight.<p>

"Is that why you said his name?"

When had Santana mentioned him? Sometime that she shouldn't have clearly from the tone of Brittany's voice, but there was something else, as if she had been genuinely hurt. Why would his name hurt her?

He let the possibilities fill him up like golden light: slipped out during a conversation, stumbled over it during a song, blurted it during…no she couldn't have…during sex?

Biting his bottom lip to keep from laughing, he wondered if she really had been thinking of him while getting her mack on with that airhead. It wasn't such a strange idea considering how much she'd been begging for it minutes ago but the reasons that she might have said it left his mind reeling. Did she like him?

Why did he want it to be true?

"Sebastian means just about as much to me as you do right now. Nothing."

Oh.

Like a balloon bursting, he felt the fleeting happiness hiss out of him until he realised he'd actually winced at her words. So that was a no then. It shouldn't bother him, he knew from the start that this was just a fuck but it stung, ripped through him.

He cared about her. Somehow, some crazy lesbian had managed what hundreds of guys had failed to do. With her snarky one liners and tantalising body, he actually wanted to…

What was the end of that sentence? Because it couldn't be 'be with her'. It wouldn't be. So it was better that he meant nothing to her, as they could just get the fucking over with and go their separate ways until he bet her at Regionals. If that was true, why was he having trouble swallowing and his hands shaking then?

'_Because you want to do more than fuck her.'_

He saw it then. Her laugh in his ear as their hands intertwined, drinking coffee in the Lima Bean with their 'friends' around them, and kissing her in the gloomy darkness of the movie theatre, and holding her while she cried, stroking her hair and whispering words of encouragement.

Gulping he grasped that he wanted those things, wanted to have those moments of happiness with her. He no longer wanted it to be a secret.

'_You're being an idiot. What would mom say?'_

'_Probably be happy that her disappointment of a son had 'cured' himself.'_

'_With a lesbian.'_

'_She likes girls. But she wants me. End of story.'_

'_You seriously think that just because you finally want to fuck a girl that you're straight?'_

'_I'm not straight. But Santana's something else; she comes with rules of her own.'_

'_You love her.'_

'_No.'_

While he battled with himself inside of his mind, he heard retreating footsteps and the soft thud of a body on the bed, and he realised that he was supposed to get out now. How was he meant to face her now, knowing that he wasn't just in it for the fuck and she was? Because her feelings were pretty clear on that area.

Pain suddenly made way for anger. It burst through him and he thought darkly, 'Well fine, if all you want is a fuck, that's what you're going to get.'

As quietly as he could, he pushed the wardrobe door open and stumbled out, hoping that it looked somewhat refined but probably looking like the drag queen's at Scandals on Pride Day – they really did take drinking to a new level.

His heart squeezed painfully at the sight of Santana laying crumpled on her unmade bed – and told himself sternly that he shouldn't feel like that. He opened his mouth, not knowing what to say and then just blurted, "I mean nothing?"

The question was loaded with the burning hurt he was trying to quell and a million little questions that he couldn't address, not with her feeling nothing towards him. She twisted around, startled as she had obviously forgotten that he was still there and Sebastian knew that he couldn't be angry at her, not with her eyes looking so hollow and empty. She probably didn't even know how to react, what emotion to ride. In her eyes, Sebastian saw that she was slamming up the walls again, refusing again to let anyone in because what did they always do to her? Rip out her little heart and stomp on it. It was a feeling that he knew well – distantly but well.

He wanted to reach over to her and hug her, tell her that everything was going to be okay, that it would get better. He stopped himself though when it came into his mind that she didn't want that, didn't want him to help her because that would mean she was letting him in. She was breaking inside.

Which was why a girl, smaller and thinner than he, managed to knock the wind out of him, and tackle him to the floor through the force of one kiss. That, along with her half-naked body launching at his unsuspecting frame.

Her hands were everywhere, her hair cocooning them in a dark safe curtain as her lips pressed incessantly on his. Their legs intertwined and her jutting hipbones dug into his toned stomach. Thinking about it, lying there with the most desirable girl spread out on top of him, Sebastian still questioned his reasons for pushing her away. He could have quite easily have had sex with her right there and then on her plushy cream carpet.

Sebastian Smythe, however, didn't take pity fucks, or second option fucks, or rebound fucks. He did have some class.

And he wouldn't take advantage of Santana, not when she was so obviously hurt and aching, and really just searching for the closest form of comfort she could get. She was going to hate him, he knew that and swallowed it down with a resigned sigh, but she'd thank him for it one day. Because he'd been in this situation but the guy who'd been his rebound hadn't exactly stopped him, and it had left him feeling even emptier and lonely than before.

"No." he insisted, pushing her shoulders away more firmly until she rolled away from him, hair in a disarray and lips dark and swollen. Fuck, she was beautiful.

'_Your conscience will be the death of you.'_

He wanted to hate her for making him want to protect her, making him feel something again, but, as his rejection sunk into her and he saw that one last shred of hope wither away, he didn't.

"Why? Finally found your gay?" She tried to snap with her usual sass but it came out weak, disdainful and completely broken.

"You'll thank me for this." He said simply as he pushed himself up from the ground and dusted down his blazer. She looked so vulnerable in the oversized tee-shirt that he wanted to take it back and kiss the pain away. Instead he settled on sticking his hand out to help her up.

She smacked it away haughtily, "Yes. I'm sure I'll thank you for not fucking me when I throw myself at you. When did you become such a freaking prude?"

"When I found out how much damage a rebound fuck can do to a person."

"Leave a trail of broken hearts in your wake. Nothing new there."

"Don't act like such an unjustified twat. It's not your best look."

Her nostrils flared and she barged towards the door and gestured expectantly, "Well this is the last look you're ever getting of this twat again."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Good.

"Good."

"Get the fuck out of my house Smythe."

Slumped in his car, he scolded himself for thinking that she could have liked him, and for being the bigger man and doing the right thing. He didn't do the right thing.

'_Santana comes with her own set of rules.' _Mocked the voice in his mind.

'_Fuck off.'_

He repeated to himself that he had done what was best, he was chancing his feelings again here and Santana was obviously in no fit state to reciprocate them. The muffled cries he'd heard as he shut the front door hadn't meant anything. Forgetting her would be best. Easy.

'_Stop fucking lying Seb.'_

…

Arching into the softness of her bed, body slicked with sweat and skin burning, she wailed in pleasure as Sebastian thrust against her, grunting and huffing as his hair fell out of it's perfectly coiffed stature. Every nerve was on fire and she threw her arms out behind her head and curled her fingers into the duvet.

Except her hands found cool solidness.

Her eyes fluttered open and she bit back a whimper when she felt Sebastian's warm body ripped away from her. A blinding light was shining on her and she hurried to cover her nakedness.

Where the hell was she?

Peering around her she saw that she wasn't alone, much to her chagrin, as bodies swathed in luxurious ball gowns and suits twirled and swayed around her. She stood up, completely at a loss as to where she was, and the glaring beam of light dimmed.

Music was playing faintly in the background, women were wearing intricate masks of gold and silver with feathers and glitter glinting in the lamplight, and suddenly a ballroom appeared around them, complete with a gleaming chandelier that had to be five times the size of Santana's own body.

Everything around her screamed expensive and tasteful, and even the stained glass windows sparkled. Paintings of a young man astride a horse and staring stonily, littered the sloping walls and Santana couldn't shake the feeling that she was surrounded, trapped. She tried to run, knowing that she didn't belong here but the ever changing sea of bodies refused to let her pass, keeping her contained in a tight circle. She wanted to scream in frustration fought to keep her temper in check. Why wouldn't they let her go? What did they want from her?

"Care to dance?" asked a voice and she turned quickly to see Sebastian offering his hand. His smile radiated warmth and security and his eyes danced with mirth.

But it wasn't really Sebastian. His skin was almost iridescent and his eyes were a brilliant colour somewhere between violet and indigo. He'd never have worn that attire either: a deep navy suit jacket complete with tails, a glinting black waistcoat and a pure white shirt that showed a significant amount of toned skin with its large v-shaped collar. And breeches. Breeches! Who wore breeches nowadays?

No, this was, this was some sort of…

He was looking over her intently and she quickly remembered that she was stark naked in a room full of well dressed bodies. She glanced down at herself once more, ready to note how inappropriately she was dressed, and found, well beauty.

Instead of flushed, naked skin, a skin tight navy dress clung to her body, falling in one elegant sweep from her breasts and pooling around her feet. One-half was encrusted with black glinting diamonds while the left side shimmered with white ones. And where they collided…fireworks. A plethora of bright colours, ones that she had never seen before and were almost too pretty to look at – greens too rich and pinks too soft - all cascading down her thin body and lighting up the floor under her feet. Compared to the gaudy dresses of the females around her, her simple slip was easily the most beautiful there.

She started to look back up at Not-Sebastian and saw him smirking slightly, but awe filled his eyes. She realised with a jolt that their outfits matched perfectly together, the perfect blend of old and new, passion and simplicity. Her heart thrummed quickly in her chest as she took his hand, unafraid now. This was where she was supposed to be, with Sebastian.

But he was fading, blurring in and out of shape, his form distorting and twisting and, as she watched in horror, he disappeared before her after screaming out in agony. It was as if a part of her had been torn from herself, she felt woefully incomplete and alone as the dancers turned in on her, engulfing her in whispering, jeering, condemning stares.

Her eyes flew open and she was greeted with the familiar peeling white ceiling and grey lampshade. Her hands was stretched out in front of her as if trying to reach someone. And understanding washed over her.

Everything, all of that, had been a dream. An extremely vivid and heart-breaking one.

But she…oh.

…

Walking into school the next day had been the same as any other: some people stared, some moved out of the way, some snickered. That she could deal with. Nothing had changed. Except everything had. Slamming her locker door shut and telling herself just to stop thinking about what an ass she'd made of herself yesterday, she headed glumly to first period English, dreading the bell ringing as that would mean it was time for Glee.

…

It was worse than she thought. Brittany rode in on Artie's lap, the cast on her broken arm covered in multi coloured drawings and words. Funny how she hadn't even noticed it yesterday.

'_That's why nothing ever works out for you Santana, because you're selfish.'_

They didn't see her as first, leaning quietly against the side wall. But the guilt that washed over Brittany' face when she did was enough to make Santana want to scream.

As the others wandered in, they all either gave her a pitying look or one of resignation. She guessed that they thought she had done something to screw up and end the relationship. That should have made her angry, but instead it just made her sad: was that really how they thought of her, after everything?

Blaine slid into a seat beside her in the back row, once she'd decided that she couldn't stand against the wall all day, and patted her leg. She looked up at him startled, ready to tell him to keep his hands on his boyfriend's ass, when he just smiled a small knowing smile and she realised that he, at least, knew how hard this was for her.

But he didn't know. Didn't know that it was not Brittany who was making tears prick at the back of her eyes and fuelling the pain that circulated through her. She knew that it should be and that she should feel broken inside. Well, she did feel broken, but it was because of the realisation that had come three hours later that she had really screwed up with Sebastian.

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, willing the period to hurry up and be over with. Mr Schue finally sauntered in, busily texting someone and it became apparent that his mind was anywhere else but on the lesson. And Santana snapped.

"Look if we're not going to be doing anything, then what's the point in being here?"

Everyone turned to look at her in disbelief but Rachel just nodded and exclaimed, "Santana's right Mr Schue, we've not done anything in days. We've lost motivation after all of this trouble with the Warblers. I for one have a great idea that-"

"Berry shove a sock in it, better yet make it one of the Gigantor's and choke on the fumes, I have something I want to do." She stepped quickly over to the band and told them the song. Luckily they knew it – but then again they knew everything, she swore they ate sheet music for meals.

She didn't know why she was doing this. Or maybe she did but didn't want to admit it. The club would probably think she was singing to Brittany and they could think that if they wanted, she didn't care, it was better that they didn't know the real reason.

After how she had acted, she hadn't really expected Sebastian to text her but it had left her feeling empty inside and she hadn't wanted to be the one to make the first move in case he really didn't want to see her again. She could still feel the way his lips had felt against hers and the soothing feeling of his hands on her skin. And then the rough dissipating feeling of his rejection.

It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to touch her, it was because he'd been afraid to cause her anymore pain that what she was already dealing with. And she'd just pushed him away. Saying that to Brittany had been a lie, she'd known that the second it left her lips but she couldn't very well tell that to Sebastian after he'd stopped her. She tried to think of how she'd feel if the situation was reversed and it had been she that had to hear Sebastian saying she meant nothing.

It fucking hurt.

She wanted him here, to watch her and know that she had been wrong. She didn't know how it had happened, but in less than a week Sebastian had become someone that she wanted around. He knew how difficult it was to want something that you shouldn't. It was silly that, after feeling that way for years about girls, she'd forgotten how agonising it was. However, it was there, at the surface of her emotions just waiting. His smile.

"_Don't know what to do anymore,_

_I've lost the only love worth fighting for._

_I'll drown in my tear storming sea,_

_That would show you, that would make you hurt like me._

_All the same, I don't want mudslinging games._

_It's such a shame, to let you walk away._

_Is there a chance?_

_A fragment of light at the end of the tunnel?_

_A reason to fight?_

_Is there a chance you may change your mind?_

_Or are we ashes and wine?_

_Don't know if our fate's already sealed,_

_This day's spinning circus on a wheel._

_I'm ill with the thought of your kiss,_

_Coffee laced intoxicating on her lips._

_Shut it out, _

_I've got no claim on you now._

_Not allowed to wear your freedom down._

_Is there a chance?_

_A fragment of light at the end of the tunnel?_

_A reason to fight?_

_Is there a chance you may change your mind?_

_Or are we ashes and wine?_

_I'll tear myself away, if that is what you need._

_There is nothing to say, but,_

_Is there a chance?_

_A fragment of light at the end of the tunnel?_

_A reason to fight?_

_Is there a chance you may change your mind?_

_Or are we ashes and wine?_

_Reduced to ashes and wine,_

_Or are we ashes?"_

Maybe part of the song fitted her situation with Brittany, in fact most of it did, but the real reason? Her fear that Sebastian would make people think she was climbing back into the closet after all the fuss she'd made coming out of it. This wasn't some attention seeking thing to make people believe she was normal again. You can't help who you are attracted to.

Sebastian might not be what Santana had believed she'd wanted – she doubted she was what he wanted either – but she had a connection with him now. Feeling that abandoned in her dream had been the wake-up call she needed. Plus the four days of silence, their almost fuck and their showdown, she wanted more than just to fuck him. Those kinds of thoughts were too big, too scary and too absurd that she hadn't wanted to let them enter her mind.

She'd wanted to fill the gap that Brittany left in her wake and Sebastian had been there waiting for her. It had been so stupid to think that fucking him would make the pain go away, and now she'd ruined it.

She noted that she was breathing heavily and that her eyes were glossed over with unshed tears. No one in the room moved. Blaine was smiling, as always and holding one of Kurt's hands, and something told Santana that he knew whom the song was about. Quinn watched her sadly, wanting to pull the girl into a hug and tell her that everything was going to be okay. The rest were shocked but seemed to just believe that the song was aimed at Brittany.

Santana didn't make eye contact with her, she didn't want to see the pitying look that she knew she was being given. Instead, she turned her back on them and took a deep breath to calm herself. Then she looked out of the corner of her eye at the glass window in the door.

She doubted that anyone else had seen, they were all to busy trying to piece together the meaning of the song after Brittany mumbling quietly that it wasn't for her.

Sebastian. Just for a second. She doubted that she wouldn't recognise those eyes in a crowd now, they were beautiful. Not the almost inhumane beauty of Dream-Sebastian, but the inner light of his real ones. She'd never thought of them like that before. Then he was gone and she wondered if she'd imagined it.

"Santana that was…amazing." Blurted Tina and Santana turned back around, needing to come up with some way to get out.

If all else fails, return to bitch, "Better than anything any of you tone deaf rejects could do." And turned on her heel, hurrying to get out of the room before the insults came flying back.

No one was outside, the corridors were empty. Had she imagined it? She turned quickly trying to judge if someone had just walked past and she'd mistaken them.

A soft 'squelch' reached her ears.

That was the auditorium door – Puck had jammed a wad of gum at the hinges as a joke and now the sound haunted the hallways when anyone made use of them. Why would anyone be in the auditorium?

Curious and needing a distraction from the emotions bubbling inside of her, she rushed along the winding corridors and barged into, what she thought would be, an empty theatre.

She hadn't expected to run straight into the back of a pair of broad shoulders clad in a dark blue blazer.

"Ooof- what? Warblers?" she exclaimed as the boys in blue turned around to stare at her. She couldn't see Sebastian.

"I know you all must be mostly brain dead from the amount of gel that seeps into your scalps on a daily basis, but you know that this is McKinnley, right? It's not your gay private school. What are you doing here?"

"I invited them Santana." Said Mr Schue, coming through the open door with the rest of the New Directions trailing behind him, "If you had given me enough time to speak, I would have told you all but instead you wanted to sing. And I felt like you needed it more than me announcing my lesson plan."

She scoffed, thinking that he didn't have a clue what was going on with her but folded her arms across her chest and waited for an explanation.

"I asked the Warblers to meet us here today so that we can all put this animosity behind us. Seriously, guys, I know that the competition is important but it's not worth this resentment towards each other. It's gone too far. And I'm putting an end to it."

"How are you going to do that Mr Schue?" asked Kurt sceptically, peering around the hall, undoubtedly searching for Sebastian. Exactly what Santana wanted to be doing.

If the Warblers were here, that had to mean Sebastian was too. Had he heard her? Did it mean anything anymore. Suddenly faced with seeing him and apologising and probably being told no yet again, her palms began to sweat and her heart thudded loudly.

"By singing about it. Isn't that what you tone-deaf losers always resort to?"

Just hearing the sound of his voice made the rising fear lessen and fade. Thinking about the way his lips must have moulded the words and the little flicks of his tongue, sent shivers running down the back of her neck. Had she seriously allowed herself to let him walk away? Was she trying to make her life miserable?

She whipped around to see him standing above her in one of the overhanging viewing boxes. He looked down at her but didn't meet her gaze, and her heart squeezed tightly. She really had ruined it.

Mr Schue fixed Sebastian with a withering look, "Sebastian, as captain of the Warblers, that's not really helpful to our end aim here is it?"

He just shrugged and leaned lazily against the steel barrier, a hawk circling it's prey.

Everyone had the look of outrage mixed with curiosity mixed with uncertainty and Santana snorted loudly, "You think singing is going to fix this Mr Schue? They are our competition. You don't fraternise with the enemy."

"You do." Brittany murmured but before Santana could round on her, Mr Schue piped up again, "I want us to use that fighting spirit and channel it into positive energy."

Like seriously, where was he getting these from?

"Mr Schue I think that- " Rachel began but Sebastian cut her off, "Fine, I have something I want to sing about, not that I think it's going to make us all want to braid each other's hair and sing about the magical qualities of Blondie's gupper lips."

Santana hid a smile as Sam covered his mouth yet again, and wondered if Sebastian was truly hurt about what had happened. She could have mistaken the rejection yesterday not as something to help her, but as a proper rejection. Shit. Did she mean nothing to him? What if he actually didn't want her and she'd just given him a scapegoat? What if-

"_Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes."  
><em>

Sebastian's clear and brilliant voice rang out from above them and everyone stood shock still, unable to tell whether he was having a joke or not. Blaine tightened his grip on Kurt's hand and Rachel's eyes lit up at the song choice.

"_Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear."_

And then the blonde Warbler started to harmonise the backing vocals. The tall one joined in and lead the rest of them in encouragingly.

_"__Five hundred twenty five thousand__six hundred minutes,__  
><em>_How do you measure, measure a year?"_

The auditorium was filled with something so pure, so beautiful that Santana couldn't tear her eyes away from Sebastian, his eyes burning with something and a smile dancing on his lips.

A beat passed before Santana figured out that she was meant to answer, only, not knowing what emotion she was answering to, kind of left her knees shaking.

_"__In daylight, in sunsets, in midnights,__in cups of coffee."_

She wanted to squeal at the look of relief that passed over Sebastian's features but it was masked a moment later and that settle heavily in the pit of her stomach. Rachel saved the day by joining in with her.

"_In inches, in miles, in laughter in strife."_

Blaine looked once at Kurt and they shared something that only two people truly in love could before singing together.

_"__In, five hundred twenty five thousand__six hundred minutes,"_

And then the New Directions fell in line and they sang powerfully together, letting their anger seep out of them,

_"How do you measure a year in the life."_

No one was unsure of what to do when the band guys began to play out the melody and the lights on the stage came up. Together they came and it wasn't about competitions anymore. It was about the music and the love they shared for it.

_"__How about love__?__ H__ow about love? How about love?__  
><em>_Measure in love,__seasons of love,__seasons of love."_

_"Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.  
>Five hundred twenty five thousand journeys to plan.<br>Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes  
>How do you measure the life of a woman or a man?"<em>

Santana took the verse before anyone else could because she needed this, needed to pour her soul into the lyrics so that Sebastian knew that she wanted him.

_"__In truth that she learned__or in times that he cried.__  
><em>_In the bridges he burned__or the way that she died."_

Even though the situation was different – neither of them had AIDS for a start, and she prayed that she never would – the meaning of the lyrics that Sebastian belted, echoed what she needed him to know. She knew that she'd hurt him but they couldn't be finished. Not that they'd ever started, she reminded herself.

"_Its time now to sing out though the story never ends.  
>Lets celebrate, remember a year in the life of friends.<em>

_Oh, you got to, you got to remember the love._

_You know that love is a gift from up above._

_Share love, give love, spread love,_

_Measure, measure your life in love._

_Seasons of love, seasons of love._

_Measure your life, measure your life in love."_

In the whooping, hugging and regaining breath that followed, Santana watched as Sebastian nodded once at her, still up in his box, and walked away slowly, his expression unreadable. It hit her like a knife to the chest to see the pain she'd inflicted. She had to make it right.

…

"_Dreams. That's where I have to go to see your beautiful,  
>Face anymore, I stare at a picture of you and listen to the radio.<em>

Hope, hope there's a conversation, we both admit we had it good.  
>But until then its alienation I know that much is understood,<br>And I realise.."

Wednesday morning. A week. And so much has changed. He was standing in his dorm room with his iPod blaring the accompaniment while he bled his way through the lyrics.

The impromptu song at McKinnley yesterday had apparently went down a treat and everyone was back to being best friends again. Sebastian didn't care. All he cared about was the look on Santana's face as she had sang in that classroom yesterday, pained, distraught, hoping. Everything that he wasn't brave enough to sing to his own glee club.

But everything was Santana.

_"If you ask me how I'm doing, I would say I'm doing just fine.  
>I would lie and say that you're not on my mind.<br>But I go out, and I sit down at a table set for two  
>And finally I'm forced to face the truth,<br>No matter what I say I'm not over you,  
>Not over you."<em>

If the song was clichéd, fine. He wanted Santana even after the heartache she'd given him, because it still hurt like hell even thinking that Santana didn't want him. The doubts that maybe she did, had left him tossing and turning in bed and unable to think about anything but her haunting last words, "Are we ashes?" Were they unfixable? He didn't want to cause Santana anymore confusion, maybe it would just be better if they ignored their feelings.

If he got down to the truth of it though, he was just scared that he was going to be the back-up. And the minute that Santana realised she didn't want him, only her daffy ex, she'd up and leave. Like his brother.

_"Damn, damn girl you do it well, and I thought you were innocent,  
>Took this heart and put it through hell, but still your magnificent.<br>I, I'm a boomerang, doesn't matter how you throw me,  
>I turn around and I'm back in the game, even better than the old me.<br>But I'm not even close without you,"_

He wouldn't allow himself to feel that way for her, but his resistance was already crumbling. He knew. Knew that he meant something to Santana, even a blind and partially deaf person could have told him that after listening to her pouring her heart out into her song.

He couldn't hide behind excuses now.

He had to face that he was terrified of being hurt again.

_"If you ask me how I'm doing, I would say I'm doing just fine.  
>I would lie and say that you're not on my mind.<br>But I go out, and I sit down at a table set for two,  
>And finally I'm forced to face the truth,<em>

_No matter what I say I'm not over you._

And if I had the chance to re-new,

_You know there isn't a thing I wouldn't do.  
>I could get back, on the right track but only if you'd be convinced<br>So until then…_

If you ask me how I'm doing, I would say I'm doing just fine.  
>I would lie and say that you're not on my mind.<br>But I go out, and I sit down at a table set for two,  
>And finally I'm forced to face the truth,<br>No matter what I say I'm not over you,  
>Not over you, not over you, not over you."<p>

If he could go back to having never knowing Santana could he do it? Would he –

"A bit melodramatic is it not Smythe?" said a voice from behind him.

He didn't bother to hope that it was just some floozy that Eddy had picked up because there was no mistaking that voice. Swivelling around, he was greeted with Santana leaning against his doorframe in her Cheerio's uniform. The only thing that was wrong with the image was that her hair was tied back tightly in a pony, hair like Santana's should never been tamed like that.

She had fixed him with a cool stare while sauntering into his dorm room, and kicked the door shut with they heel of her sneaker.

"You boys must be used to visitors just popping in and out because no one even batted an eye-lid at me. Dirty aren't we?" She was trying her hardest to keep up the façade of superiority and indifference but Sebastian could now pick out the way she glanced down at her feet while she spoke as if afraid that letting him look at her for long enough would let him in.

That was what did it. No matter how long they played this game, pretending that it was just a game, she was never going to trust him enough to let him know all of her secrets. She'd always flit away just at the moment when he thought he'd caught her.

As terrified as he was, he knew that if she wanted to know something he couldn't deny her it, and right now, he couldn't be sure that that would ever be the case with her.

And maybe it was overly dramatic but it seemed that the only way she ever listened or truly expressed how she felt was through song. He was angry, hurt, confused and downright fed up of her shit, maybe this would get her attention.

"_Who do you think you are? Barging in on me and my guitar.  
>Little girl hey, the door is that way,<br>You better go you know the fire's out anyway.  
>Take your powder, take your candle,<br>Your sweet whisper I just can't handle.  
>Well take your hair in the moonlight,<br>Your brown eyes goodbye, goodnight."_

It was funny how fitting the lyrics were: Roger afraid to let Mimi in because he was just going to hurt her. Even the description of her. No backing music, no helping voices, just him, clear and strong and fighting not to scream in frustration.

_"__I should tell you, I should tell you__  
><em>_I should tell you I should - no!__  
><em>_Another time - another place,__  
><em>_Our temperature would climb__, t__here'd be a long embrace.__  
><em>_We'd do another dance__, i__t'd be another play.__  
><em>_Looking for romance?__Come back another day__  
><em>_Another day."_

…

She was rooted to the floor, completely blown away by the sheer anguish in Sebastian's words. Had she really caused him that much hurt by saying those things? He really cared about her – the thought hit her like a freight train, knocking the wind from her. Why couldn't she just be brave for once and tell him how she really felt.

She could.

"_The heart may freeze or it can burn.  
>The pain will ease if I can learn.<br>There is no future, there is no past.  
>I live this moment as my last."<em>

If Santana could just find that strength with in her to accept that some things are too great to deny just because you were scared of getting hurt, maybe she could erase the damage done over the last twenty-four hours.

_"There's only us, there's only this.  
>Forget regret, or life is yours to miss.<br>No other road, no other way.  
>No day but today."<em>

Instead of singing to Sebastian, she was singing for herself, pulling out the will needed and allowing the fear to dull, not fade because it was going to take more than a song to get her over the skeletons in her closet.

But it had the same impact and the same power, and she could see in Sebastian's wide eyes that he understood. She was just as scared as he was, they were both completely new to the feelings that were there, even if neither of them wanted to acknowledge them.

She saw the complete look of terror in his eyes as he drew in one great shuddering breath – how long had he been holding it for? – and wondered if this was all too big for him. A different feeling, not one of rejection but of guilt filled her when she realised how surreal this was. They'd just sang together spontaneously, and if that wasn't a signal that they were both going crazy then what was?

Embarrassment made itself evident on her cheeks and she tried to clear her throat, "I can't believe we just did that."

It took a while for Sebastian to answer, as if he was trying to figure out the best way to say whatever was going through his head. _'He's going to tell you to beat it. He's just thinking of a way to put it nicely.'_ Whispered the insecure voice in the back of her mind.

She shushed it, knowing that they both wanted this now. But then Sebastian cocked his head and his eyes narrowed, "I don't…I can't…" He shook his head slightly.

Santana felt the squeezing agony of rejection once again only this time it wasn't for her own benefit, he didn't want this. In an instant she was back to the nervous little twelve year old that hadn't know what to do with her feelings for the pretty girls in her class, and the insecure fourteen year old that began kissing boys to try and forget those feelings.

He didn't want her.

The air inside his bedroom was suffocating her and she had the urge to bolt from the room because she just couldn't take it anymore. Stumbling backwards, she fumbled with the door handle and she was free. Free to run down unfamiliar hallways and push back the tears that were ready to flow.

Until someone grabbed her, hauled her backwards and clattering into a storage cupboard. She fell, winded and lashed out at her attacker, striking whoever it was smartly across the jaw. She hadn't grown up in Lima Heights without some aim.

"Ow. Fuck. Would you quit acting like a cat in a bath-tub? Jeez, control yourself Satan."

Satan.

The term that had become her nickname, and seeing the softness that reached his eyes when he said it, she understood that it was a term of endearment.

"Smythe? What are you doing?"

She just wanted out. Away from his crisp scent that made her breathing quicken and the flashing smile that he was wearing. God, couldn't he just let her go if he didn't want her. You'd think he might have been a bit more empathetic.

'It's Sebastian', she amended and huffed, trying to worm away from his embrace. He just grinned at her in the dim lighting, because of course he'd thought to put on the light bulb and folded his arms across his chest, "Seducing you. Isn't that obvious? Or I was until you went all She-Hulk on me."

Seducing…that meant.

Oh.

So he had just…

He'd been lost for words.

Not, as she'd thought, been ready to reject her.

She wanted to hit him again, tell him how much he'd put her through and how idiotic it was kidnapping her in a broom closet. She ironically found it funny that they were both in the closet together and let out a snort.

"Getting hit on in a supply closet…aren't I going up in the world."

"Guess it's the classiest place it's happened so far considering your…background."

"Better than doing it behind clubs because you're scared your mummy and daddy would find out about their son spoiling their white silk sheets."

"They're red actually."

Why was it that their banter flowed so easily? It wasn't even meant to hurt anymore, it was just that this was how they could be around each other: complete assholes. Santana then realised how close she was to him, inches between their bodies and felt a tremor go through her. It didn't matter what they gone through to get to this point, all that mattered was that Sebastian was here, teasing her and still seeming to want her.

He looked delicious. There was just something about his Dalton blazer that made a part of her growl in anticipation. There was something different about him though. He looked as if he hadn't gotten a good nights sleep in weeks and his usually composed face seemed to be slightly on edge. He looked…nervous.

"Ants in your pants Smythe? That's from not bathing you know." She stuttered out because he was staring at her lips, looking like he wanted to devour them.

And before she could say another word, Sebastian grabbed her behind the neck and crushed her towards him, smooshing their lips together. Everything in that moment was right in Santana's world. With Sebastian's firm hands holding her close and his lips moulding against hers, she (after days of unrest) finally found an inner peace. This was where she was meant to be, right now in her life.

Well, maybe not the storage closet part. But you get the idea.

Her head was spinning with the intensity of the kiss as it was everything that they wanted to say: I'm sorry I'm such an insecure bitch that needs to tear other people down and still doesn't feel happy, I'm sorry I'm such a scared little boy that I can't just tell you how I feel, I need you, I want you, I missed you.

Physical actions spoke volumes more than words sometimes she thought as he pulled back and stared deeply into her eyes, trying to judge what she was thinking. He had never looked more terrified and Santana realised with a jolt that she had done this to him, she made him like this.

It sent a thrill and a wave of terror through her. But she embraced it because finally they were on the same page. His lower lip was swollen from her biting on it and she couldn't resist nipping at it one more time.

"I don't know where to start…I'm…I'm not good at this. Needing someone." He murmured, pressing his forehead against hers.

She swallowed thickly, "Neither am I, I think that's why it's taken us this long to understand each other."

"We're idiots."

"You're the idiot."

"If I'm an idiot what does that make you?"

"Someone who really, really wants to get you out of those pants."

"Deal."

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Side note, the dress that Santana wore in her dream is being drawn by one of my close friends and it will be up on my tumblr when it is finished if y'all want to see what I imagine it to be! Oh, and also, let me know what you thought!xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N – Hey guys! Remember me? The one who had a massive case of writers block and then two days of inspiration? I am so, so, so, sorry for taking this long to update, it has been crazy hectic in my life and I just can only apologise. What still astounds me though is that I'm still getting alerts and favourites and reviews even after this time! You guys rock and I love you all. Please let me know what you think after reading this part. Okay, now I will warn you that this is smutty (i.e. what the rating is for) and if you don't like that I would suggest you skip down a bit until you reach the less smutty parts (angst this way comes), although I hope that everyone who does read the smut enjoys it, it's kind of what you've been waiting for. And also I really hope that I've handled the issues raised in this part in a sensitive and thought-provoking way and I will warn that there could be triggers. Anyways, this is just to say that I love you and thank you and please feel free to let me know what you think! Thank you all again for your continued support! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>She'd been naked before. She'd felt the flush spread over her body and felt the light breeze tickle along the downy hairs on her lower back. Nothing about this should have been different.<p>

But it was.

It was Sebastian that was raking his eyes appreciatively over her body. If it had just been casual approval, Santana could just about have dealt with that, by shoving him backwards and making him thank his lucky stars that he was getting to be with her. It was the breathlessness, the wondrous glint of astonishment, euphoria and disbelief in the look he was giving her that sent her eyes downwards and caused her to bite on her lip nervously.

Nervousness.

That was new.

Their clothes had slid off about two seconds after Sebastian's dorm room had slammed shut, although somehow Sebastian's candy blue striped boxers were still in place. Looking a bit strained though, Santana noted with a smirk. He was perched on the end of his bed, hands splayed out on the bed-sheets, waiting.

Suddenly Santana felt very much like the inexperienced fifteen year old that hadn't really known how to approach sex. Was she going to be able to make him feel as good as all of those guys did? That was a scary thought in itself. And would he be able to make her writhe in pleasure and scream out profanities?

Taking in that Sebastian looked every bit as nervous as she did, she mustered her best bedroom voice, "You know, I've found a fault in that song you were singing, apart from your chipmunk squeak-like voice."

He shimmed further backwards on his bed as she began to advance towards him, watery sunshine bouncing off her breasts, "Which is?"

"How can you not be over me yet?" she purred, placing one hand either side of his head and straddling him, "When you haven't…", she pushed him on his back, "yet…been…", sucked on the curve of his ear, "under…me."

His hips bucked upwards involuntarily as he let out his breath in one big rush and his eyes darkened with lust. Santana felt a little burst of thrill shoot through her. She made him like this, ready and waiting beneath her and she hadn't even begun yet.

Starting from his left ear, she sucked and nibbled on the skin along his collarbone and licking a wet stripe down his chest – completely clear of hair, figured – and mouthing around his right nipple. The whine that escaped his mouth could have cured impotence in most married couples. Twirling her tongue around the sensitive nub, she threaded her fingers through his dark brown hair and tugged gently, making his hips roll upwards again, clearly aching for friction.

"You're a bit of a kinky bastard aren't you?" she said, her voice sounding hoarse as she moved her body downwards and dragged her nails down his ribs.

He moaned softly and bit back, "You have no idea."

It sounded like a promise.

A promise that made her already throbbing clit want to burst and her heart squeeze tightly.

This was it then. The point of no return.

She wasn't even scared.

…

Santana's mouth was inches away from his straining cock and he had to resist the urge to pull her mouth down just to get some kind of friction. Why did he wear underwear again? What plausible reason in this world could he have for not being completely naked right now?

He opened his eyes quickly at the loss of Santana's flushed body pressed against him and saw her staring at him with dark eyes. How anyone was ever going to resist anything that girl asked of them was beyond Sebastian. Seriously, she could have asked him to run naked through the Dean's office and he would have obliged.

She was stunning. He'd thought that all along, but without any distracting clothing or makeup to cover up her clearly superior beauty, Santana was breathtaking. She was perfect. Perfect tanned skin, perfect long legs, perfect wide hips, perfect lips, perfect breasts. Staring him down, asking permission for this one last obstacle, giving him a way out.

As if he needed one.

He leaned forward to capture her lips in a long, messy kiss, moulding her body against his. She tasted like happiness, tongues duelling for dominance and neither caring who won. His hands found the back of her head and quickly pulled the hair band from her head and hating the wince that met his actions, effectively freeing her hair around her shoulders.

"You're kink for seeing me in pain just becomes more fun every day." She said mockingly, after shaking her hair out and pressing him back down onto the mattress.

"Quick fucking around and take my boxers off before I go insane."

"Wouldn't you like that?"

"Satan…"

"Since you asked so nicely."

Her fingers found the elastic waistband of the boxers and she spent a few moments running her fingers teasingly along the trimmed scratchy hair that she found. Was she trying to kill him? At another time he probably would have loved to have her tease him until he couldn't think, but right now he was so hard it was painful and he needed this. They'd been so close to this point for days now and it was time. Time to show that nothing is ever your choice, you go through life completely ruled by your heart and your head battling over what you want. And it doesn't make you any less of a person.

Finally, she inched the boxers down his muscular thighs and pinged them behind her head, watching with wide eyes as his cock sprang free and rested on his stomach. Dripping with precome and flushed dark at the head. He saw her gulp and breathe shallowly, "Scared? Has it been that long since you've seen a cock?"

She arched an eyebrow at him and snapped, "You're going to be screaming my name Smythe. You're going to curse every single person who has taken pity on you and blew you before because they've been keeping you from this. You're going to come so hard that you'll forget your own name.

Somewhere during her speech, her voice had become seductive again and her mouth was millimetres away from his cock, her breath making it twitch in anticipation.

He would have bet his left ear that he'd never seen stars so large before. As Santana finally sunk her mouth around him, he threw is head back and groaned in unbridled pleasure. She hummed around him, licking a wet stripe along the base and twisting her lips slightly at the head, causing him to buck up without thinking.

Smirking slightly, she slipped her hands under his ass and began to squeeze, tiny, brilliant pinches of pain. Did she just know how to make him unravel?

"Santana…just…fuck…" were the most eloquent of words that came panting from his lips, his mind too wrapped up in the glorious sensations of Santana's tantalisingly talented mouth around him. She had been right: this blowjob was going to go on his wall of fame. If only she would…

"FUCK!"

Her fingers ran along the halves of his ass, glided softly over his hole and pressed down sharply on the skin between his balls and his hole. A flash of a sniggering memory of some of his old friends and him scrolling through pages of Urban Dictionary brought up that it was called his taint. But really, did he care what it was called?

She dragged her finger slowly from there to circle his hole and back again, while keeping up the pace of her mouth and Sebastian didn't know what to do. Her dark eyes flashed up at him, seductive and lustful, asking if this was okay, but he could tell that she knew what she was doing. Knew how to tip him over the edge. He was coming undone quicker than ever before and Santana was doing nothing to help it. In fact he though that she was trying to see just how quickly she could get him to cave.

And he'd be lying if he said he cared.

His skin was on fire, beads of sweat running down the back of his neck and he fisted the covers around his head tightly, moaning loudly, not at all caring if anyone heard. Every swirl of her tongue, every stroke of her clever fingers, was too much, and he felt the familiar sensation pool in his stomach.

"Close…I'm…don't…" he garbled as a warning, allowing Santana the time to pull off if she so wished. Instead, as she sunk back down, she took all of him, her nose brushing against the dark hair around the base and that was it. He didn't have a hope in hell.

With her name on his lips, he came, hard. He was sure he blacked out for a moment or two due to feeling like he was riding on clouds and unicorn magic. Pleasure coursed through him, filling him up and he faintly heard the wet sound of Santana releasing him. He had the good sense to open his eyes again as she began to softly kiss her way back up his chest and place her hands either side of his head again.

Her lips were dark and swollen, cheeks flushed red but her eyes shone brightly with a childish glee that could only come from making someone feel truly amazing. He sighed deeply and pressed a kiss to her lips, trying to explain just how brilliant and wonderful she was, how great an orgasm that was.

"And who said that lesbian's don't know how to give blowjobs?" she murmured against his lips, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"You certainly knew what you were doing. Where'd you learn how to do that?"

"Spoilers."

"You're such a tease you know that."

"Says you, buck naked and delectable."

"You think I'm delectable."

"Shut it Smythe."

He rolled her over, loving the way her eyes darkened with lust as his weight pinned her down onto the mattress. Her skin was soft; his fingers glided over it causing the downy hairs to stand on end and slotted himself between her legs. He could feel how wet she was already and it made his sensitive cock twitch. Sucking roughly, he placed kisses along her collarbone and felt the tremors that went through her body. She groaned quietly and began to tug on his hair again, twisting it in her fingers, spurring him on.

He stroked a gentle hand over her breasts and stared at them, almost in awe. He'd never thought that they could be sexy before. The were just extra skin. But Santana's breasts were…stunning. They were completely and utterly sexy because they were a part of her, a part that could make her feel amazing. He tentatively pinched a nipple and let out a little breath of amazement at the look of pleasure that crossed over Santana's features.

"They're not going to break." She said, screwing her face up in happiness as he sucked it into his mouth and bit down sharply. He spent a few more minutes mapping the curve between them with his tongue and pulling her nipples until they stood uniformly flushed dark against her mocha coloured skin. But the time wasn't for memorising each and every inch of her body, no matter how much he wanted it to be. She needed this, was aching for it. Sebastian had to make this good. No, brilliant for her.

How was he supposed to do that? He didn't know what she wanted, how to make her scream, could he even face what was waiting for him down there? Down there? He made it sound like it was an alien invasion. '

_ 'That's sexy, Seb, well done!'_

He shook his head furiously and kissed the smooth skin underneath her belly button, watching the staccato rise and fall of her chest, making those beautiful orbs bounce. He could do this.

Dragging his blunt fingernails down the sides of her hips, he continued to kiss down onto her cleanly shaven skin and ran his tongue along the silky smooth skin of her thigh, stalling for time. Santana moaned underneath him, clearly aching for friction now that he was so close to her.

Almost nervously, he licked a soft swipe along the pink skin and was rewarded by a satisfied whimper of approval. It didn't taste like how he remembered – although he had tried to blot out that memory – and certainly not the bitter taste that lingered in his mouth after giving a blowjob, but different. Darker, sharper yet sweeter at the same time. He brought his hand up to rest on her inner thigh as he dragged his tongue along her clit again, this time dipping lower into her wet, warm heat.

Her fingers clawed into his scalp, firmly gluing him in place as she whimpered, "More Sebastian…harder…"

Obliging, enjoying the scent that washed over him, he plunged his tongue in as far as it could go, while moving his hand to rub against her pulsing clit. Santana shrieked in pleasure and Sebastian was almost positive that she swore in Spanish. He hummed happily, knowing that he was the one making her thrash against his mattress. He tried alternating the strokes of his tongue and quickly found a rhythm that left Santana whimpering.

"Sebastian…more…"

He growled and pressed against her harder, slipping two fingers into her, surprised by the tightness and warmth but Santana just mewled in response. It was different from rimming, of course it was, but the principles were the same and maybe if he just…

"Jesus fucking Christ…Sebastian…" she wailed as his fingers pressed against the correct bundle of nerves that sent her toppling over the edge. As he stroked her through her orgasm, he stared in fascination at the tremors that shook her body and the way her eyes rolled back slightly and her lips parted in wonder. She was so beautiful.

After her body had stopped most of it shaking, he kissed around her belly button again before Santana grabbed at his head and pulled him up into a searing kiss. She still tasted of him – he must have been the same – but it didn't make Sebastian recoil, if anything it made him sink deeper into the kiss because she'd made him feel so perfect.

Breathing heavily, Santana pushed a stray hair off his forehead and whispered, "What am I going to do about you?"

…

Unsuccessful in convincing her to skip school and spend the day with him, Sebastian pulled his trousers back on grumpily, the room suddenly too large without Santana's presence in it. They hadn't said goodbye – they'd been too busy kissing while getting Santana's clothes on, a terrible waste if he did say so himself – and they hadn't needed to. She was coming back tonight. To finish what they'd started.

Images of Santana post orgasm were burned onto his eyelids and he could still feel her mouth around him. The touch of her fingers on his skin. The way she'd felt cradled in his arms as the lay staring at each other silently, each lost in the other, trying blindly to figure out what in hell they were doing. If Sebastian didn't know any better he'd say…

No.

_'Not yet.' _

Sometimes he hated his brain.

…

Santana inhaled deeply, trying to focus her spinning mind as she gripped her steering wheel tightly. Sebastian's lips were still all over her, one significantly dark hickey showing over the cut of her Cheerio's uniform, but she couldn't find it in her to care. Each mark was a promise, of brilliant and mind-blowing things to come.

Scary things.

The sheer fact that they'd managed to have such amazing oral sex on the first try should have been a testament to them in themselves. But it was terrifying at the same time, how had it been that good? It had never felt like that with guys before – they were usually to busy concentrating on licking and fingering at the same time that they didn't have a clue how to send her over the edge until she took matters into her own hands. Literally.

But Sebastian had just…known. She bit her lip, secretly gleeful that it had been so easy. Everything between them was. Wasn't that how it was supposed to be. Easy. Fun.

It was ruined when feelings got in the way.

Like now, for instance.

…

"Hey Rich, you got a minute?" He said loudly, knocking on the door once and entering his friend's dorm room. Richard Holt was one of Sebastian's closest friends – if you could call the Warblers that – and the only person who could relate to Sebastian's current predicament.

He was lying on his back, without his tie or blazer on, on his bed reading the latest issue of Rolling Stones, clearly not caring that the morning bell was going to go in five minutes, and he grunted in response.

Sebastian smirked at his messy brown hair and remembered how it had felt to run his hands through it. Richard was the only Warbler that he'd fucked and was still on speaking terms with. He'd once been attracted to the height, breadth and strength of him. Conjuring up an image of Santana beside him made it difficult to see why.

"You've been with girl's right?" he asked bluntly, knowing that Richard would just get pissy and obtuse if he didn't get straight to the point. It got his attention though, the magazine was disregarded and his chocolate eyes were trained on Sebastian's warily.

He cleared his throat and answered, "Well Seb, that's the general idea when you're bi. You like both."

"But did you like both to begin with or did you end up liking one after liking the other?"

Richard peered at him through confused eyes, clearly wondering what the hell was going on with him, "I knew that I like guys the minute my mom let me watch 'The Mummy' films and I saw Brendan Fraser shirtless."

Sebastian raised his eyebrow, inwardly impressed by the choice, "And girls?"

"Have you seen Sophia Bush lately?"

"But those are like celebrity crushes. I mean for real."

"Seb, this is kind of weird. You've never cared about this stuff before. What happened to 'I fuck you, you leave?'" Richard asked, eyes cast downwards at the floor uncomfortably.

Sebastian pressed his lips together, biting back the scathing retort and realised that this _was _out of character for him. Usually he wouldn't care if people thought he was an uncaring asshole, but he really needed Richard's help.

"Look, please. This is important. Can you be gay and still like girls?" he asked quietly, hating the way his voice cracked over the last words, as if he was scared.

Understanding dawned on Richard and he smiled, "It's that McKinnley girl isn't it. Shannon…Sarah…Sabrina…"

"Santana."

"Right. Her. You like her?"

He rubbed a hand against his temple, "No."

"But you think you like girls?"

"No."

"Well what is it Sebastian?" he asked, raising his voice in confusion.

"I just…I don't…Rich, I can't like her."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm gay."

Sebastian knew that he was just going over old arguments, but if this was the way to get an answer out of him, then he'd do it.

"Jesus Seb, you'd think for being clever you'd have some common sense! It's not set in stone. Nothing ever is. You clearly like her, even if you're denying it and there is nothing wrong with that. Yeah, some people might say some shit to you about going back into the closet but who gives a crap? It's your life. If she makes you happy, go for it." Richard was breathing heavily just as the bell sounded, and Sebastian put a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you." Was all he said because without even knowing it, Richard had made it crystal clear. Santana made him happy, he wanted to share things with her, things that he'd never shared with anyone and wanted to hear all about her life. Maybe it wasn't…that word yet, but it could be.

Maybe.

"Was that what yesterday was all about? Her?"

But the question fell unanswered in the air as Sebastian had quickly rushed from the room, his mind buzzing in excitement at his newly formulated plan.

…

Her locker slammed shut abruptly and Santana turned around to see a flashing eyed Kurt glaring down at her.

"Reason for interrupting my perfect morning walrus cheeks?" she snapped, but only half-heartedly, somehow she'd started to like Kurt, even if he was just as high maintenance as Rachel at times.

"Can you please kindly explain why my boyfriend, who has never yet had a reason to keep secrets from me, goes bright red at the mention of your name and starts mumbling something about how you need to be careful?"

So Blaine hadn't spilled the beans, she'd give him credit for that, but who was he to pass judgement on something he knew nothing about.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh really?" Kurt raised a sceptical eyebrow and frowned sarcastically, "So it has nothing to do with the fact that you looked like you were about two seconds away from crying when Sebastian the famed idiot, left yesterday?"

Fuck. Had she really looked like that? Had he managed to make her care that much?

"Santana, look whatever you do is none of my business…"

"So why don't you just leave it that way?" she pointed out, crossing her arms defensively across her chest, trying not to think about the way Sebastian's lips had felt against there earlier.

Kurt barrelled on, ignoring the snide comment from some jock that passed him, "But whatever you're going through with Brittany doesn't mean to say that Sebastian is a viable choice of help."

"You know nothing about him." Santana surprised herself by how scathing it came out, as if she were defending his honour.

"Neither do you." Kurt said simply, and was dragged away by a passing Mercedes, leaving Santana chewing her lip nervously because she knew deep down that Kurt's words were right.

…

From Sebastian: So what mind numbing subject are you sitting through?

From Santana: Calc…

From Sebastian: I bet I could make it interesting for you.

From Santana: The only person that would find you interesting would be a burn victim because you'd make them feel so much better knowing that they still look better than you.

From Sebastian: You really need to stop flattering me Satan, it'll go to my head.

From Santana: At least then there would be something inside it.

From Sebastian: Getting cold feet yet?

From Santana: What? Why are you asking that?

From Sebastian: I was just kidding. But now I'm worried that I hit a nerve. What's wrong?

From Santana: What are we doing Sebastian?

From Sebastian: Texting…

From Santana: …you amaze me with your wit.

From Sebastian: I try.

From Santana: Try harder.

From Sebastian: We are…do we need to put a label on it?

From Santana: See you have no idea what it would be either!

From Sebastian: Just because I don't have a name for it doesn't mean I don't enjoy it.

From Sebastian: Aren't you having fun?

From Santana: Is that what I am to you? Fun?

From Sebastian: Why are you asking this Satan? Why do you need an answer?

From Santana: Because…

From Sebastian: Because why?

From Santana: Great English there!

From Sebastian: Satan, stop deflecting.

From Santana: I don't want to get hurt again.

From Sebastian: And you think I'm going to hurt you?

From Santana: It started as a way to hurt each other.

From Sebastian: Isn't it so much more than that now?

From Santana: Is it?

From Sebastian: Why are you pushing this?

From Santana: Because this is crazy.

From Sebastian: What's crazy?

From Santana: The…the way…

From Sebastian: …

From Santana: The way I'm starting to feel…about…

From Sebastian: Me?

From Santana: Wipe the smirk off your face Smythe, I know it's there. Hardy har har. The ice queen has feelings.

From Sebastian: Just promise you're still coming over tonight.

From Santana: Why?

From Sebastian: Just promise Satan!

From Santana: Fine. I promise.

From Sebastian: Good. Got to go, teacher alert, see you tonight.

From Santana: Smythe, don't you dare just leave me like this!

From Santana: I'll change my mind!

From Santana: I hope you get detention for having your phone out!

From Santana: I'm going to kill you tonight Smythe, and not in the way you want!

From Sebastian: ;)

From Santana: I hate you.

…

Quinn was startled out of her daydreaming by a sharp knock to the head, and stared down at the folded sheet of paper on her desk. Looking around she caught eyes with Santana and she mouthed, 'Open it!'

Shaking her head and thinking that her friend was insane, she unfolded the note and read the message with darting eyes. She quickly ticked the boxes and scribbled her own message at the bottom, biting her lip and hoping against hope that Santana knew what she was doing.

Checking that their teacher was still engrossed in his book (which really hid a magazine of naked girls from the 50's) and lobbed the note over Finn's drooling head and into Santana's outstretched hands.

She smirked slightly while reading it, then promptly tore the paper into pieces, and just nodded at Quinn, as if that ended their 'conversation'. Ripping a page from her floral notepad, she wrote, "If you take him there your mother will kill you." And tossed it towards her, folding her arms resolutely and vowing to not have anything more to do with the matter.

…

"Two times in one day? Jesus Seb, I'm going to start thinking that you actually like being around me." Richard sarkily said from where he sat hunched over his desk in his bedroom.

Sebastian, changed out of his stiff Dalton Uniform and into a pair of slacks, leaned against the doorframe and put on his best puppy dog voice, "Can I borrow your car? Pretty please?"

His head snapped up and he regarded him with laughter filled eyes, "And what happened to your car? Total it again?"

"I'm offended that you think that little of my driving skills."

"It's the only thing about you that I regard in a small manner."

Sebastian smirked, remembering for a moment just how funny Richard could be when he wasn't stressing over the latest exam for Chemistry or obsessing over Coldplay's entire song collection. "Cute."

"Seriously why do you need my car?"

He sucked in a deep breath and steeled himself, trying his best to keep vague, "I need to…collect some things. That I don't want…people seeing."

Richard let out a bark of laughter at that, "Burying the bodies of your enemies Seb? Low even for you."

"Look are you going to give me your car or not?"

Realising that he was serious, the grin slipped from Richard's face, "Umm, lets try no."

"Oh come on Rich! Please?" he wailed, needing this. There was no way in hell that his classmates were going to see him doing this with his own car. Better that they think that he was doing this for Richard than the real reason.

He looked him up and down once more and must have seen the sincerity in his eyes, "You are getting nowhere near my car." Sebastian started to protest but Richard held up a silencing hand, "Give me the address and I'll 'collect' whatever it is for you."

"And you're paying for the gas."

…

Placing the finishing touches onto the makeshift table, he stood back and surveyed his work. His room had been transformed. Completely.

The bed flipped onto it side and pushed against the wall, held in place by the borrowed skipping ropes from Trent – he wasn't even going to ask. His chair and desk were currently inside Richard's bathroom, with much grumbling over how he was going to get into the toilet later. Red sheets had been thrown haphazardly across the floor, making it seem as if he was walking on a bed of rippling fire and this effect was added to by the black flower petals strewn over the room. An old coffee table had been dragged up from the lounge and covered in a black sheet, which Sebastian had taken care to fold underneath the black pillows that were serving as chairs. Richard had even pulled through with the paper lanterns that covered the light bulbs and gave the room a floozy atmosphere.

If he'd had more time – if he actually cared, he reminded himself – he probably could have done a better job. But it looked semi romantic, somewhere that Sebastian could…

Well Santana would like it.

She should be arriving any minute…

_Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock._

So this was what nervousness felt like, it wasn't the same as the butterflies he'd had this morning. This meant something. Could he really let her in? Did he want to? Did she want to?

"Sebastian, are you going to let me in or will I have to kick this door down in five inch heels?" said an irritated voice, followed by more furious knocking.

He smiled to himself and knew in that instant that he wanted Santana to know everything. He was tired of hiding. It was too tiring. Quickly flicking the light switch, he swung open the door and felt every worry slip away.

She was dressed in a black, long, floaty skirt and an off the shoulder blue shirt that screamed expensive. Her dark hair was plaited simply and a few wisps hung around her ears and he couldn't stop his wandering hand from stroking her face silently. Her eyes widened at the loving touch but she didn't shirk away from it, just sighed and pushed him aside so that she could get inside.

"Why are we in the dark Smythe? Planning to kill me?" her voice was thick with something that Sebastian couldn't place, but his heart beat faster as she leaned into him and kissed the side of his neck, "Or a vampire?"

She smelled of mango and raspberry and he breathed deeply, allowing the scent to envelop him like a warm hug. He circled his arms around her and brought her lips up so that he could mould them together while flicking the lights back on with his elbow. The startled intake of breath made Sebastian happier than it should have and Santana stiffed in his arms as she took in the room.

"What...Smythe, what are you doing?" she asked in a small voice, clearly unsure of how to act and he saw fear cross her face. It infuriated him that this wasn't a normal occurrence for her, she should have been used to people doing nice things for her.

"You said that you didn't know what we were doing. I'm fixing it."

"By turning you room into a fortune teller's tent? You're missing the crystal ball on the table." Her lower lip was trembling and Sebastian could see that she was terrified of what he was going to say next. If he were honest, he was terrified too.

"For thirty seconds of your life Satan can you please just allow yourself to be treated right? I believe that when you are…doing whatever we're doing with a person, you go on dates?" His voice cracked, nerves clearly showing on his face. He'd never done this before. Fucking was what he was good at. Romance? Not so much. But for once in his life he wanted to try.

She turned her eyes back to him and he saw the battle that raged within her. She wanted this, wanted to believe in it, but was waiting for the rug to be yanked from under her feet. "What's the catch?"

"No catch. Just dinner, music, talking. Easy."

"We can't do this Sebastian."

"Why not?

"Because you…you're…you're…" she waved her hand around as if that explained it.

He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, "I'm what?"

"Not this! You don't do this! I don't do this. That's why we work. We don't need this."

"We work? Work as what Santana? Because do you have an answer for that yet?" This wasn't supposed to be happening, they weren't supposed to be fighting. This was going all wrong.

She bit her lip before shaking her head sadly, unable to form a response. Sebastian breathed heavily through his nose and said, "You have no idea who I am Santana. You think I'm this asshole just because I've made a few mistakes. You have no idea."

"That's the problem Sebastian!"

"You're making no sense!"

"You're making no sense!" she shot back.

"Why are we arguing?"

Suddenly their eyes met and they began to laugh. Laugh at the absurdity of it all. Laugh at the redness of Sebastian's cheeks and the frustrated look on Santana's. The room was filled with peels of laughter and their hands found each other, intertwining and assuring.

"You're insane Smythe." Santana whispered, her voice still streaked with giddiness.

He stroked the back of her hand and pulled her down onto the floor and onto the cushions that carpeted the floor. "Has anyone ever told you that you are pigheaded?"

"That's romantic."

"Thought you didn't do romance."

"You're warming me to the idea."

…

As Santana licked the last of the spare rib sauce from her lips, she caught Sebastian smiling at her fondly. She still couldn't believe that this was happening. There was still a voice screaming at her in her head telling her that this was all going to go wrong, that she was an idiot and she was going to get hurt. But Sebastian's warm eyes and comforting presence were quelling it, numbing it to a small whisper.

Everything was perfect, down to the last flower petal. It was insanely them, the causality of it, even Sebastian lounging in a pair of dark grey jeans and a purple polo neck just blazed welcoming and right.

"You're staring at me. It's creepy." She said softly, afraid to speak too loudly, lest she ruin the happy bubble that had surrounded them while eating their take-out.

He laughed and scooted closer to her on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him and lay his head on her lap, "You know how to eat."

Santana looked down at him sharply and playfully pinged his ear, "Are you saying I'm fat?"

"You're beautiful."

Oh.

She didn't know at what point their playful insults had turned into terms of endearment, maybe somewhere around him scolding her for texting during class and praising her coming up with her clever excuse. Or, his anecdotes from lunch about Nick shooting chocolate milk out of his nose all over Jeff's new white shirt. Apparently there had been stains over Nick's shirt at Warbler practice although no one had asked exactly of what substance they were.

He groaned contently, reaching for Santana's hand and dumping it on the top of his head, "Play."

"You like giving me orders Smythe. Don't get used to it." She warned, but began to tug at his hair gently, loving the way it felt running through her fingers.

They sat like that in quiet happiness for a few long minutes, both wrapped up in their own thoughts. Santana wanted to know just why her body felt like it was on fire and why she couldn't get that stupid Gavin DeGraw song out of her head. Why did it feel this way with Sebastian? Wasn't this supposed to not mean anything?

Santana knew that whatever this was – since they still couldn't come up with a name for it – was something that meant more to her than she was willing to admit. With every rise and fall of Sebastian's chest, she wanted to pluck up the courage to ask him, that thing that Quinn had warned her against.

But Quinn knew the idiotic little posh boy who acted like a bastard. Not the Sebastian that Santana knew. Or thought she did. "You know how earlier you said that I didn't know you?" she began nervously, wondering if this was overstepping.

His voice was guarded when he replied, "Yeah?"

"I want to." It didn't need more than that. Sebastian would understand, Santana was sure of that. In those words Santana let him know that she was ready for this, despite her wobble earlier.

"I had a brother. Oliver."

His voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper and he cleared his throat loudly. Of everything that Santana had been expecting, all of the soul baring stories that he could have went with, she hadn't thought he'd go for the sibling card. It wasn't exactly a huge tear jerker of a…

"Wait. Had?"

"He…umm he died. No. That's a lie. He killed himself."

…

Sebastian felt the words leave his lips before he could reign them in. He hadn't actually meant to start like this, didn't want her sympathy, but it just sort of happened. Santana had that effect on him; he just wanted to share everything with her. And where else to start than the issue that still gave him nightmares to this day.

It didn't even sound like Santana was breathing. He let his hand roam until he found her free hand and began to trace silly patterns on it, twirling the ornate ring on her finger slowly. He just needed to have her close. He could do this.

"Sebastian, you don't…you don't need to. I didn't mean…" she stammered her hand going still on his head.

"No. I-I want to. You need to know why I'm…the way that I am."

"Being gay had never been a question for me. I knew it. At high school it was hard trying to fit in, be popular when everyone knew that you liked guys. The whispering, the looks, well they're hard enough in themselves. But I had something else that they could tease me for; my brother."

He took a steadying breath and focused on the way the light glinted off of the familiar looking blue stone.

"Oliver was everything that I wanted to be. My role model. Wickedly funny, unfairly clever and insanely handsome. He was two years older than me. My mom and dad loved him, loved boasting about his grades. But they never took him out anywhere, never showed him off. Because he was damaged."

"Sebastian, you're not really making any sense." Santana said quietly as he took another pause.

No, he guessed that he wasn't. It was just that his mind was being invaded by memories that he'd blocked out, Oliver's laugh, his mom's cries, his dad's yells.

"Sorry, I suppose I should…He was a twin, Oliver and Cole, the wonder boys. At least that had been my parent's plans. They had it all planned out, perfect sons, perfect grades, perfect future. Easy. Except Cole was stillborn. Kind of shot my parent's plans to hell. I think that it was kind of given from then that Oliver wasn't going to fit into their brilliant plans."

"Still not getting it. Also, ow."

He shook his head, and released his death grip on Santana's hand, "Ollie was schizophrenic, they diagnosed him when he was ten, after he tried to drown me in the bathtub because 'Matt' had told him too. Matt was his 'friend' as he called it. 'That voice again' was my dad's name for him."

"The thing is, on a good day, Ollie was brilliant, amazing, hilarious. He was my big brother, the one that showed me how to build pillow forts and fence using breadsticks." Sebastian broke off, gulping as the smell of fresh bread filled his nostrils and Santana squeezed his hand in encouragement, probably still confused over the entire thing.

"But on a bad day, he was nothing that resembled my brother. Singing freaky songs, chanting and rocking backwards and forwards, telling us that he had to do things. Most of these things involved either harming himself or others. You have no idea what it's like, living in constant fear that your brother is just suddenly going to go into one of his 'episodes' at any given moment, with no idea how he's going to react or what will set him off. It must have been great for my mom; one dead son, one psycho and a gay. Fantastic for a doctor."

He twirled the ring around again, slipping it up and down her finger.

"I got my first boyfriend at fourteen. I thought I was in love with him. We did everything together. I think that Ollie knew, on some level that something was going on – that was when he wasn't talking to himself. I actually thought everything was getting better, Ollie was taking his meds and doing so well and I was finally with someone who actually liked me back. Even the tormenting over me being gay and having a psycho brother were lessening"

"No one saw it coming. We honestly thought hat he was getting better, he was sixteen now, had even started going back to school for a couple of hours during the week. Instead of going straight home one night, I went back to my boyfriend's house. We thought we were so big and brave, kissing in a deserted house. I didn't get home until six. By then it was too late."

Sebastian paused again, breathing deeply trying to ignore the wail of sirens ringing in his ears. Santana kissed his forehead and murmured, "You can stop if you want to, if it's too much."

Her words were ignored, Sebastian too caught up in the horrific memories.

"He'd written a letter to each of us, telling us how this was his decision, not 'the voices' and that he was tired of hurting us with his 'disease'. I think he'd been planning it for a while, just waiting for the right time. My mom found him in the bathroom. I never got to see him."

_Dark spots of red bloomed over the white sheet that covered his brothers body as the paramedics wheeled him out of the house and Sebastian felt bile rising in his stomach, his knees gave way and he found himself collapsed on the front yard, sitting beside his wailing mother and unable to do anything but just sit there. _

"My father never said it, but I knew that he blamed me for not being there, not being at home to stop it. I realised then how much damage relationships can cause, they weren't worth it. My brother died because I couldn't control my raging hormones."

"Sebastian it wasn't-"

"Don't say it wasn't my fault. Please. Just don't." Sebastian hadn't realised that tears were slipping down his cheeks and he wiped them away furiously, "I don't need your sympathy Satan."

"Then what do you need? Why tell me all of that? Why?" she asked exasperated, pulling his chin up so that he had to look at her dead in the eyes.

"You need to know why I'm such an asshole! I have parents who are more interested in what my grade point average is than if I'm ill! My brother died because I wasn't there to stop it! Do you know why I'm such a bitch to Kurt? Because he reminds me of him, he's smart and clever and pretty. Everything that Ollie was and better and why is it that he gets to be happy? It's stupid and petty and it doesn't make anything better, I wish I hadn't treated him like that. But the worst thing is that I can't bring myself to care, because it's one less person that I can harm. I'm dangerous Santana. And I don't want to hurt you."

He was panting and must have looked like a crazy person as Santana's eyes were wide and fearful.

"I can't hurt you. But I can't stay away from you."

…

"Sweetie, you…you are so not to blame for this. Your brother was sick; he clearly decided that he didn't want to be here anymore. If you had been there that night he would have just done it some other time." Her voice was soft and she repositioned them both so that she was straddling his hips and stroked her fingers across his tear stained cheeks.

"You don't know that Satan." He muttered, refusing to meet her eyes, but she persisted.

"No, maybe I don't. But I do know that you are in no way at fault here. You were just being a teenager. It wasn't up to you to make sure he was okay. And as for your parents? In a year or two you're never going to have to see them again, what the fuck do they matter in your life? Kurt needed someone to knock him down a peg or two, even if you shouldn't have gone after Blaine the way you did. That was just childish."

She moved her lips so that they were hovering over his, "And as for me? Don't you think that I'm already fucked up enough? I really don't think that you're going to make much difference."

Sebastian raised the corners of his lips slightly and grabbed at Santana's hands again, "You're not fucked up."

"Raging lesbian bitch cheated on by two timing ex-girlfriend currently dating a spoiled rich boy with family problems with an Abuela that won't even acknowledge her existence." She reeled them off quickly, surprising herself by how little they seemed to matter now that she was in Sebastian's arms.

He chuckled a little and Santana raised her eyebrow at him, "What?"

"You just said we were dating."

Shit.

"I didn't mean-I wasn't.."

"It's okay Satan."

Awkward silence fell around them before Sebastian pulled his hand away and stood up abruptly, depositing Santana on the floor with a little 'oof' noise. He rummaged around in his drawers for a moment, after chucking a red sheet off of it, and hummed in a triumphant sort of way. Santana watched him carefully, knowing that he was still fragile after spilling his heart out and just waited patiently for him to return.

"I was trying to figure out where I know the stone in your ring from." He smiled at her underneath his loosen bangs and opened his palm. Inside, lay a set of small, very dainty earrings. Encased in white gold, the deep blue gems shone in the warm glow and Sebastian sighed in a far off sort of way, "My grandmother gave me these before she emigrated to Australia. She told me that I was to give them to that one special girl in my life. She didn't know I was gay."

Santana met his bright eyes once more, her heart fluttering in anticipation. Why was she acting like such a child? She didn't want the earrings, didn't need something from him.

But they were so beautiful.

"I've never had a reason to think about them again until now. And I mean, not that you have to, but they match. If you want them?" he offered them out with a shaking hand, clearly trying not to make the gesture anymore than what it was.

This is nothing, Santana reminded herself, just a friend giving another friend a present. This so wasn't a girlfriend gift. It wasn't.

She pressed a kiss to his nose in thanks, knowing that he was going through the same feelings that she was. "So today hasn't really gone the way we planned, has it?" she said cheekily, feeling like this morning had been about two million eons ago. Sebastian laughed, the noise filled her up like sunshine, "Not exactly. Brother angst kind of puts a damper on sex."

"Kind of."

"But a good night?"

"Wonderful."

They said everything else with their searing kisses, clinging onto each other as if afraid the other was going to disappear. Santana hadn't had time to share her 'angst' as Sebastian had called it or ask him what she wanted. But there was time.

They had time.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - I love you all and want to wrap you in hugs! Keep shipping and stay happy! **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N - I love you all. I'm sorry. Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>The next week passed by in a hazy blur; kisses masked in the darkness of dorm rooms and coffee scented evenings swirled together in Santana's mind. She still didn't know what she was doing yet but the connection between her and Sebastian grew stronger every day. When they weren't together (or sleeping) they texted at all times, whether it be teasing:<p>

_From Sebastian: You left your underwear last night._

_From Santana: Don't you mean you stole them?_

_From Sebastian: And why ever would I do that?_

_From Santana: Sick, perverted and creeper are just some of the terms that come to mind…_

_From Sebastian: Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha._

_From Santana: Glad you find me so funny._

_From Sebastian: Thank goodness you have your looks._

Or bitching:

_From Santana: You should see what Schuester is wearing today!_

_From Sebastian: …?_

_From Santana: It's like a reject from Blaine's closet mixed with Tina's pattern clash and a green satchel to match…_

_From Sebastian: Trainwreck. I could actually feel sorry for you losers, having such an awful teacher and all._

_From Santana: You just keep thinking that when I beat you at Regionals :)_

_From Santana: He's doing Spanish songs…could this get any worse?_

_From Santana: No. No. No._

_From Santana: Kill me._

_From Sebastian: Two more hours and then you see me._

_From Santana: Yep. Day just got worse._

Or flirting:

_From Santana: I'm tired, Bas._

_From Sebastian: No wonder. You gave me quite the workout this weekend._

_From Santana: :P The drive back kills though…_

_From Sebastian: Then stay!_

_From Santana: And do what the next again morning when I have to get to school?_

_From Santana: Because you know that we wouldn't leave your bed._

_From Sebastian: True._

_From Sebastian: I miss you though._

_From Santana: Really?_

_From Sebastian: Stop acting like an idiot, Satan, of course I do._

_From Santana: I miss you too. _

_From Sebastian: Someone else misses you too…:P_

_From Santana: You are vile._

_From Santana: …Tomorrow._

_From Sebastian: I'll hold you to that._

_From Santana: Night :*_

_From Sebastian: Goodnight :*_

Santana loved the freedom of having someone that she could talk to at all hours of the day and the easy banter that they shared made it 1000% better. After Sebastian had told her about Oliver and Cole, she had just held him. In those moments he had bared a part of himself that no one was ever allowed to see and he'd chosen to trust her. It was humbling to know that she meant that much to him.

Trying to explain all of that to her friends wasn't going so well.

…

"Miss Lopez, if you do not stop texting in class I will be forced to send you to…well to see me…" Principal Figgins called out on Friday morning from behind the History Teacher's desk.

Santana smiled innocently at him before sending one final reply to Sebastian (_Black lace :P_) and slid her phone away silently. Feeling eyes on the back of her head, she turned around and fixed Quinn with an icy stare.

"Problem, Q?" she asked quietly, knowing that the last thing she needed was to spend fifteen minutes stuck with Figgins while he ranted about the importance of her education.

Quinn huffed, flicking blonde bangs out of her face and whispered back, "Why won't you just tell me what's going on with that Warbler?"

'That Warbler' was the term that the Glee club had begun to call Sebastian by – well Kurt had a few other choice names – and it was really starting to piss her off. Not only did they have no business in discussing her personal life, but the could at least have the decency to do it to her face instead of parading it around the corridors.

"He has a name. Sebastian. And frankly I didn't think you cared unless it had something to with Brittany."

They hadn't spoken since that day at her house and Santana hadn't missed the way Brittany's eyes wandered over to her or the way that she bit her lip and how the little crease between her eyebrows formed that meant she was worrying, but she tried to ignore it the best that she could. It hurt. The deep, hollow kind of ache that you just drowned in.

Breaking up with Brittany this time was so much harder than the other times but at the same time a lot easier. It wasn't just that she was losing a girlfriend, which was hard enough, she was losing her best friend. Running her fingers through blonde hair while watching scary movies, midnight skinny dipping in Brittany's Uncle's pool, trying on vile dresses in stores just for fun…all of that was gone.

And she missed her. It was like living your life with an extra limb that you hadn't known you needed until it was ripped away from you. But this time she wasn't alone. She had Sebastian. Sebastian who made her laugh, who made her the best hot cocoa that she had ever tasted, who danced around in underwear to Kings of Leon when coming out of the shower.

He made her feel special. And she wouldn't compare them. Not now. Not when things were going well.

"Santana, of course I care, I just want you to be-"

"Miss Fabray and Miss Lopez, do you have something to say to the class about the revolution of the French?" Figgins interrupted, cutting Quinn off mid sentence.

Quinn blushed faintly and began to reel off something to appease him, but give Santana a look to tell her that the conversation wasn't finished.

Woopee!

…

_From Santana: I'm getting cornered by the Pink Preggo._

_From Sebastian: Sorry, but what?_

_From Santana: Quinn. She keeps asking me about you._

_From Sebastian: Oh._

_From Santana: That's it…oh?_

_From Sebastian: What are you going to tell her?_

_From Santana: Working on it._

The noise of the lunch hall filled her ears; the week old smell of cheese penetrating her nostrils and she resisted the urge to flee the mass of colourful bodies that greeted her. She hated this room; hated how everyone silently – and some not so silently – judged her as she walked past, critiquing every last inch of her body. Not that she cared what anyone said but she couldn't shake the slimy feeling of those eyes following her.

Shoving her tray down at an empty table, she had a few seconds of peace before another figure slid into the seat across from her. Quinn, with her perfectly wrapped sandwich bag, smiled at her softly with those big brown eyes and began, "Okay, spill."

"There's nothing to spill, Q." She retorted defensively, trying to find something edible to eat on her tray and hoping that her voice wouldn't betray her.

"Look, Santana, we've been friends for years. You don't trust me and I don't trust you. But we work. Somehow. And even if we've never been as close as you and Brittany, I still care about you."

Something caught in the back of Santana's throat before she pushed it away. She wouldn't think of those months she'd spent fantasising about the ex-head cheerleader, about falling blonde hair and a pink pout. Or that one drunken kiss.

"Sebastian's… Sebastian is… He's… It's complicated." She settled on.

Quinn just smiled again, "I know."

"No, Q, you don't. You don't get it. He just gets me. He doesn't put up with my shit. The things I feel for him… I feel like they are going to burst out of my chest." She breathed out harshly, "I'm gay, Quinn. I know I am. But it doesn't matter with him."

She was so sick of feeling like she was betraying herself. How was anyone supposed to understand how she felt about Sebastian without thinking that she was going back in the closet? She shouldn't care what they thought.

But a small part of her did.

"You think I don't know but I do. I get how hard it is to hide your feelings –"

"A crush on Puck isn't exactly what I'm talking about."

Quinn just glared at her, "Let me finish. You know that I like guys, yes?"

She just nodded, not exactly seeing the point in answering.

"And you accept that? Good. But that still doesn't stop me from liking someone that I shouldn't. Someone that gets me and calls me out when I'm acting like an idiot, someone who makes me feel special and included, who infuriates me but is always there for me."

As if on queue, the rest of the Glee Club walked by, Rachel swinging along on the arm of Kurt and smiling in passing at Quinn.

Oh.

"Santana, I'm not saying that you have to tell me everything that you two do. You don't even have to admit that you're dating him. I just want you to know that there is someone here for you who understands what you're going through."

"I understand what it's like to be so close to someone but not be able to touch them because of how you would be thought of. The struggle everyday knowing that you shouldn't like the person but something within you just connects to them."

"And I'm not as lucky to have the person like me back." Quinn's eyes were downcast at the ground, colour peaking in her cheeks and Santana was wholly grateful to her best frenemy. Reaching over, she squeezed her hand and received a smile in return.

She wasn't as alone as she thought.

…

"So, how did it go?" Sebastian's silk voice slipped out of the speakers in Santana's car, sounding slightly tinny in the fading afternoon night.

It had been a long day, Glee practice had dragged on and now that she understood the looks that Quinn gave Rachel, the tension between them was suffocating. And that was before she even registered what was going on with Brittany.

"I think she understands, as crazy as that is."

"I didn't give her enough credit. What made her come around?"

"Rachel."

The sunlight was glinting off her windscreen, making it harder for her to see.

"The Barbra Streisand wannabe?" he sounded confused.

Stopping at the red light, she tapped her fingers against the wheel in annoyance, "Yeah. She, um, she opened her eyes."

He sighed, a small relived little sigh and she wished she was beside him. Missing him was a constant ache. She missed the way his eyes caught the light, shining green and silver flecks. The comfort of his warm hand on her back, on her shoulder, on her thigh; he was always touching her as if making sure that she wasn't going to disappear on him.

She could see herself loving him. It was easy even though it shouldn't be. She could see herself walking in Central Park with him, holidaying in Paris, drinking wine on the beaches of Greece, and fucking in the moonlight. The hope and fear battled within her, filling her up with a light that wanted to burst whenever she was with him.

She was scared of him hurting her and scared of him loving her. She didn't know what it meant.

"Are you still coming over tonight?"

"Why, miss me?"

He snorted to himself as the light turned green, "You're not that nice."

Swinging her way around the corner she forgot the answer as her car screeched to a swerving stop.

…

"Santana?"

"Saw yourself in the mirror and realised I'm right?"

"Satan?"

"Quit it."

"What's wrong?" His voice quickened in panic, and he could hear the tinny-ness of his voice echoing around the car through his phone.

Lying on his bed, with his Dalton tie swinging loosely from his neck and he had to work to quench the need to grab his car keys and go.

Car crash? Fainted? Freak epilepsy? Why wasn't she answering?

"Santana, what's ha-"

"I'm fine. It's not me. I had to swerve to avoid Brittany and I got distracted." She sounded breathless and slightly scared.

Why the hell was Brittany in the middle of the road? Did she have to get involved in every aspect of Santana's life. Uncontrollably he felt a wave of anger towards the blonde dancer; he thought that he had finally got Santana out of her clutches.

Running a hand through his hair, he thought about the times that they had spent together and tried to keep composure, "Santana, what is she doing there?"

"She looks hurt Sebastian. I need to go to her. I'll see you tonight."

"Santana, wait-"

The phone clicked off and the line went dead.

…

_From Sebastian: I need help._

_From Richard: Is that you just figuring it out?_

_From Sebastian: I'm serious, dickhead. _

_From Richard: Now, now, no need to start name-calling. What's up? Or should I guess? Santana?_

_From Sebastian: Am I that obvious?_

_From Richard: She's like your personal bat signal._

_From Sebastian: You are such a nerd._

_From Richard: Do you want my help or not?_

_From Sebastian: What do I do?_

_From Richard: Talk to her…?_

_From Sebastian: She's with someone._

_From Richard: Then go get her back._

_From Richard: Or go and get shitfaced at Frank's. _

Was he really going to ignore the problem? Hadn't he grown up a bit?

_From Santana: Meet me at Trixie?_

As he was picking up his keys, Sebastian really didn't know where he was heading.

…

She was leaning against the hood of her car, her arms wrapped around her as a shield against the cold, and Sebastian instinctively reached over and grabbed the spare jacket he kept in the back of his car. Car shuddering to a halt, he met her gaze and felt an almost instantaneous feeling of grounding without even knowing that he'd been lost. Because that was what she did to him.

Her eyes showed slight signs of smudging and, swallowing around his anger, he walked over to her casually, watching the way her mouth twitched in amusement. When he was close enough he draped the jacket around her shoulders and brushed his knuckles gently across her cheek. There was something insanely beautiful and slightly vulnerable about the way she titled her face into him, her dark eyes flashing with something akin to...no.

Clearing his throat, he said gruffly, "What are we doing here, Santana?"

She stepped back slightly but kept her eyes locked on him, "Fun."

He wanted to call her out on this afternoon, ask for an explanation, ask for an apology even but really, did he need it? He didn't own her. She didn't owe him explanations for where she went and who she was with, not because they weren't actually in a proper relationship but because no person deserved to answer to anyone. That's what he hated about marriage because it sucked the trust out.

"Let's go."

Sebastian did trust her. And from the look of gratitude on her face he knew that he had done the right thing. It didn't matter where she had been, it just mattered that she was here now.

Her slender hand slotted into his and he was flying, heart racing at the connection. A quick flirt with the bouncer and they were in, pressing against the tipsy bodies of the patrons.

It was loud. Sweat. Drink. Sex. Music. The steady rhythm, pulsing through every heart, ensnaring the body into hypnotic dance mode. It was home. Where the sound of the bass drum beat in time with your heart. Where the sticky bar stools held the promise of sin. Where you can forget your name. Home.

And there was Santana. Tanned shoulders bare to the world, swinging her hips and laughing with a devilish glint, murmuring into his ear. His anchor in the swirling sea of madness.

'_I'm feeling sexy and free.'_

No.

The familiar song began and Sebastian felt himself pull back abruptly, grabbing Santana's wrists and hauling her to the side. She obviously thought it was a game from the way she pouted and whined. But he felt as if his insides were coiling into a ball and his mouth was too dry.

'_Like glitter's raining on me You're like a shot of pure gold.'_

Santana's head lolling against his shoulder. The stench of hospital antiseptic. Flashing headlights as he drove through red lights.

'_I think I'm 'bout to explode.'_

"Bas, what…what's wrong?" She shouted above the music, worry lines creasing her eyebrows.

This was wrong. They shouldn't be here. This wasn't keeping Santana safe.

'_I can't taste the tension like a cloud of smoke in the air.'_

"We need to leave." The blood was rushing in his ears and his grip on Santana's wrists tightened involuntarily.

"Ow. Sebastian. Let me go. What are you talking about?"

"We shouldn't have come here. I need to keep you safe."

'_Now I'm breathing like I'm running 'cause you're taking me there."_

"Keep me safe? What-" he pressed a finger against her lips and made to take her hand again but she batted him away.

What had he been thinking? He could have lost her again. No. He had to get her out of here.

"_Don't you know, you spin me out of control."_

…

His eyes were darting around frantically, looking for ways of escaping no doubt, and she pulled his chin down to look at her.

"Listen to me." Pinging his forehead to get him to focus. "I'm fine. Bas, Sebastian, look at me, look at me. I'm safe. I'm here. With you."

'_We can do this all night, turn this club skin tight, baby, come on.'_

Ignoring the stinging pain of her wrists, she tried to quell the feeling of complete adoration in her heart. He wanted her to be safe, so much so that he was almost beside himself with anxiety. She didn't need saving but it was…exhilarating knowing that there was someone in her life who wanted to.

'_Pull me like a bass drum, sparkin' up a rhythm, baby, come on.'_

"We're here to dance, I'm not leaving. I'm not going to get hurt again. Bas, I'm here."

The last conformation seemed to get through to him and the fog lifted from his eyes. His breath came out shaky and shallow against her forehead and his entire body seemed to sag against her. His hands clutched at her sides, desperate for connection and she pulled him against her. His clean scent engulfed her and she sighed happily, pushing away her own small feelings of doubt and fear about being in a club. But she wouldn't show Sebastian that.

'_Rock my world into the sunlight. Make this dream the best I've ever know._

_Dirty dancing in the moonlight. Take me down like I'm a domino.'_

They stood together for a moment, just breathing each other in, in their own small space of relative privacy, each needing the other to balance themselves. Finally, Sebastian released her, but pressed his forehead against hers. There wasn't a prelude this time, no longing glances at lips or searing eye contact, just a simple, honest kiss. It was thank you for being here, thank you for understanding, thank you for just being you. Kissing him was never going to get old; it filled her with something warm and light, buzzing around her body, and this one had an extra sort of quiet hope.

"Let's dance."

…

It was an unspoken game. They were never more than thirty feet away from each other although they could feel the other's gaze upon them at all times. Sebastian would get a wicked kind of glint in his eyes as he found his next target and shimmy on over to them. He'd flirt with them – usually tall, dark and handsome – make them believe that they were special and then ask them for a dance. The guys were literally falling over themselves to be with him. She'd stay on the dance floor, dancing with girls wearing too much make-up and deliciously short skirts, grinding against them suggestively.

In every caress of the cheek that Sebastian gave his prey, she'd know it was meant for her. In the way she slung her arms over the blonde's shoulders, she knew Sebastian wanted it to be him. It was a game of seduction. Whoever could push their target the furthest, won.

The girl arched her neck beneath her, fingers hooking around her belt loops and mewling into her. Santana licked a wet stripe along the exposed flesh, feeling as if her entire body was on fire. Soft skin. Silk hair. Perfect chest. She lost herself in touch, taste, take.

A soft, girlish whimper pressed against her collarbone and made her recoil slightly. She wanted this, wanted this type of closeness, but she wanted it with Sebastian. Throwing her head back, she sought out his eyes and found him closer than expected. Two feet away from her he stood, almost transfixed, as his 'partner' wound his arms around his neck.

Something base within her knew that it wasn't just the guy pressing up against him that was dilating his eyes like that. She slid her arms down the girl's body and watched him growl in satisfaction, looking like a completely fucked with his hair thoroughly mussed.

She mouthed over to him, "Fuck me."

Needless to say they were out of the club in under five minutes.

…

Watching Sebastian come undone before her eyes filled her with a selfish sort of pleasure. She wanted to watch it again. And again. And again. She wished that she could embed it in her memory; the way his hips bucked up and slammed back down as a strangled moan escaped from his lips, low and primal. The way his pupils blew open in ecstasy and never wavered from her own eyes. The sheen of sweat that illuminated the v of his hips. The parted lips. The clawing fingers. The sleepy smile afterglow.

It wasn't an ideal place, the backseat of a car never was, but Sebastian had seemed to enjoy it enough. She wiped her mouth carefully and smiled down at the wreck of handsomeness below her, this was what she wanted.

"For a lesbian, you are unfairly good at that." He muttered, half throwing an arm around her to bring her closer. She didn't even want her own release, this was enough. Just being held by him.

She fitted snugly beside him – with some god awful squelching leather on skin noises – and buried her face into his neck. She wanted to say it, not because it was the right time but because she could feel it in her bones that she did actually…well…

"I'm so happy that I have you, Satan."

A kiss placed on her hair.

That was enough for just now.

…

They ended up back at Dalton, sloppily kissing over the banisters as Sebastian tried to pull up her dress. It was carefree. It was fun.

Spinning in his black leather chair, she hummed along to some indie band as Sebastian showered in the adjoining bathroom. The room was, at the same time, fully Sebastian and not. It screamed expensive but the tatty books and textbooks that lay in piles in the corner showed his willingness to work. His desk was littered with photographs, although there was only one of Oliver, and the drapes didn't match the bed sheets. She could see him living here, making music, fucking, dancing. But nothing showed his kindness or his temper or his well hidden nerdy side.

She heard the sound of him singing and she laughed quietly to herself. Nothing would show Sebastian truly except for him. And she got to be a part of it. Brushing her fingers along the wooden furnishings, a small toy car brought her to a stop.

Brittany.

She'd managed not to think about it all night and had been overjoyed when Sebastian had just seemed to let it go. But she couldn't hide from it.

"_What are you doing Brittany? Trying to get yourself killed?"_

"_I know you come home this way. I needed to see you."_

"_You see me all day at school, why didn't you just talk to me there?"_

"_You don't talk to me. You ignore me. I hate this." _

"_We aren't girlfriends anymore, Brittany."_

"_But we were best friends before that, can't we be friends again?"_

"_Things are different now…I…Wait, are you bleeding?"_

"_I fell of my skateboard."_

"_Where did you…never mind. Get in. I'm taking you home."_

"_I'm supposed to be going to Artie's."_

"_Fine."_

"_Does this mean we are friends again?"_

"_Just get in the car, Brit."_

She played the conversation in her mind again, feeling the terrible awkwardness of the drive flooding over her, the way Brittany's fingers had brushed against hers when they reached to change the song. Being her friend right now was too hard but she was going to hurt herself if she didn't, Brittany needed her.

A small part of her said that she needed Brittany too.

The sound of the shower turning off roused her from her thoughts and she quickly placed the car back down, tucking it out of sight behind a photograph of the tall beat boxer and Sebastian.

If Sebastian noticed – and from the way his eyes flittered over to the shelf, he probably did – he didn't say anything. Instead he shucked his towel onto the floor and pounced onto his bed, throwing his arms across his face like a child.

"If I wanted to have nightmares, I'd watch The Hole." She teased, watching in fascination at the way his cock bounced against his tanned skin. He shuffled over and made grabby hands at her.

That was what done it. She wanted him in everything that she was. She trusted him completely.

Laughing, she batted his hands away and, after rummaging in his closet, threw a pair of white wash jeans at him and a winter sweater.

"Get dressed, Bas."

"Stay. Warm. Bed. Comfy. Sex." Was what Santana thought he said, with his head half buried into his duvet.

"Bas."

He peeked out from underneath his arms, eyes flashing in curiosity, and grumbled, "Why? Where are we going?"

"We're going to visit my Abuelo."

…

"Satan it's like eleven at night. I don't think your Grandfather is going to appreciate us visiting him at this time." He pointed out, shutting the car door behind him and sliding into the driving seat.

Waiting until she had clicked her seatbelt into place, he reversed out of the school parking lot as she said, "Can we just not talk for the rest of the journey?"

"And how am I meant to get to the place that we aren't allowed to talk about, Oh Cryptic One?" He asked sarcastically, thinking that Santana was going to be the death of him.

"Drive to McKinnley, take a right and keep driving until I tell you to stop."

Yes. Death.

Driving in silence, Sebastian tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, hoping against hope that Santana was going to give him some explanation of what was happening.

"Santana, would you talk to me?"

"Satan?"

"Are you really not going to talk to me?"

He glanced across at her in frustration to see her chewing her lip nervously. He wanted to run his hand through her hair and hold her until everything that was bothering her was right again, but he couldn't because he had no idea what was going on or where they were actually going.

"Seriously?"

"Santana I-"

She cut over his protests, "Brittany was the only other person that I'd taken to see him."

So, this was serious then? But why was she taking him to see a relative in the middle of the night?

"She went to his house with me when we were kids, and then to the garden when we weren't. She didn't know what it meant."

As he was opening his mouth to ask what 'what' meant, she continued, "But then she did get it and it was someplace that I was only allowed to take Brittany to if I was taking a friend."

"Look, Santana, I don't mean to be rude but I don't get any of this."

"I wanted to take you there in the daytime, it's beautiful, but now is the right time." She sighed against the window that she was gazing out of.

"The right time for what? I thought we were going to see your Grandfather."

"My Abuelo died two years ago of liver disease."

A deep feeling of grief settled in the pit of his stomach and he simply reached over for Santana's hand and squeezed tightly, hoping that she understood what it meant.

"My Abuela… she said his favourite place to go to was this little hill with an oak tree about ten minutes from their house because when he was there it made him feel connected to the other side. And after he died we built a garden there in memory of him. I go there to think, to talk to him, to feel connected to him again. I want to take you there. Quinn told me not to but I want to."

This little piece of Santana, another little chink in the amour, and the huge amount of trust that she was giving him meant more to him than anything that he'd ever received before – and he'd been on the receiving end of Freddie Fox's blowjobs. This was pure. She needed him to be with her, wanted him to share this experience with her.

Whatever game they had been playing when all of this began, no matter how it had began, this blend of trust and hope and fear was more than either of them could ever have imagined. He swallowed, knowing that he should be feeling so from of complete and utter terror at how fast this was going but he didn't. It was like he was free falling with a limitless expanse of space before him. He wasn't afraid. He was exhilarated.

…

He didn't know what it looked like in the daylight but it must have been something pretty extraordinary because the sight before him was…breath-taking.

Fairy lights – which he assumed had to be solar powered – twinkled in circles around the base of the giant oak tree, which danced with rows of pale violet and yellow fairy lights. Scattered around the hill were patches of violet and yellow flowers, some of which had little sign posts with Spanish words inscribed in flowing writing on them. Lights draped artfully over the branches and swinging slightly in the breeze sat a two-man wooden tree swing with twining rope handles. The glowing moonlight made the place look like something out of a novel.

"Santana this is…" He didn't have the correct words to describe the emotions that were running through him. What this place meant to Santana, what it signified by her bringing him here, how the soft lights illuminated the tear that rolled down her cheek. It was magic.

She dropped his hand absently and moved towards the tree, murmuring something in Spanish. Following her, he wished that he understood what she was saying, but just placed a comforting hand on her back and waited. As she turned, her eyes were gleaming in the lights and he had the urge to kiss her but restrained himself by asking her, "What were you saying?"

"_Pienso en ti todo el tiempo_. It means I think of you all the time. I miss him, Bas. If he hadn't died… I don't know, maybe my Abuela would have been more understanding about me. He loved me. Accepted me." Another tear rolled down her cheek and he brushed it away carefully, keeping a lingering hand on her jawline and entwining their fingers together with the other hand.

"He'd love it here, Santana, and he would be so proud of you." He said softly, knowing that the words were twofold.

There was a dull ache in his heart standing knowing how much Santana had done to keep her Grandfather's memory alive when he had tried his hardest to forget everything about Oliver. He didn't deserve that.

But this wasn't about him. He was here for her, in whatever way she needed him to be.

"I wish you could have met him." She looked up into his eyes and chuckled, "You are both as stubborn as each other. He would have helped me understand what this was."

"What would he have said?"

She thought for a moment before smiling sadly, "The same thing that he always said, 'Tana, you follow your heart, always. Love, break, cry, try. Whoever makes you happy, I don't care if they are a rocket scientist or a bum as long as they make you happy, is worth fighting for. And we are a fighting bunch.'"

With that he folded her into a fierce hug and felt sparks shooting up his back as she held onto him. It was frightening – the good kind of scary – to know how much they could center each other with a simple hug.

Somehow they ended up sitting together on the swing, their knees nudging against each other.

"Not that I'm complaining, but why did you bring me here?" It was a quiet question as he was scared of breaking the still atmosphere that had settled around them.

She bumped his shoulder playfully, "I wanted to share this with you, I wanted you to know that no matter who I'm with, you are the one that I'll come back to because I trust you."

If he were petty, or a lesser person, he'd bring up Brittany and retort that she had also been here and had been trusted. She trusted him now, but what about later on down the line? But that wasn't him, wasn't his style. This was something special and he wasn't stupid enough to throw it back in her face. Brittany didn't matter.

As if reading his mind, "And I know that I was weird with the Brittany thing today but she was my best friend, it's messy and complicated and painful, but can you trust me enough to know that whenever I'm with her friendship is all that it is? I'm not the type to apologise or give excuses. This, between us, isn't something I'm going to just throw away."

"Satan, I trust you." He pressed a kiss against her forehead, "You have the right to do whatever you want. Just know that I want to be the person you come to at the end of the day and I'll be that person for as long as you'll have me."

"This is where we say it isn't it…"

"We don't have to…"

"It's not that I don't want to, I just-"

"Don't want to jinx it?"

"You know though?"

"Of course I do, you?"

"Kiss me and I will."

Santana leaned her head against his shoulder after their lips parted and sang half breathlessly under her breath in Spanish. Gazing up at the stars and stroking Santana's hair, Sebastian was content.

…

_From Santana: Mom is thinking of putting a lock on my window to stop me from sneaking back in._

_From Sebastian: I told you to stay!_

_From Santana: We both need sleep. _

_From Sebastian: I need you._

_From Santana: We have the entire weekend._

_From Sebastian: No, we don't, Blaine is throwing that New Directions/Dalton party tomorrow night, remember?_

_From Santana: Are we going to that?_

_From Sebastian: Do you mean: "Are we going to that?" or 'Are __**we**__ going to that?"_

_From Santana: I don't know, what do you want?_

_From Sebastian: I just want you. We shouldn't need to hide this._

_From Santana: Are we ready for that? _

_From Sebastian: Do you want to announce it with doves and treacle tarts?_

_From Santana: Stop being such a douche!_

_From Sebastian: Sorry :( Satan, are we dating?_

_From Santana: I want to say yes._

_From Sebastian: Then we go together._

_From Sebastian: And don't even bother bringing Grease into it._

_From Santana: Teehee, okay, pick me up at eight?_

_From Sebastian: Proper date?_

_From Santana: As proper as a party can be._

_From Sebastian: Deal._

_From Santana: Deal._

_From Sebastian: Double deal._

_From Santana: Double double deal._

_From Sebastian: We're made for each other aren't we…_

_From Santana: Looks like it. _

_From Sebastian: Oh God._

_From Santana: I know…I have to deal with you for an entire night tomorrow…save me!_

_From Sebastian: Wait? Entire night?_

_From Santana: Well you're staying over aren't you :P?_

_From Sebastian: Never has there ever been a truer word texted. Dearlordyes!_

_From Santana: What did I tell you about quitting the word making business?_

_From Sebastian: I need to pack._

_From Santana: You won't need anything. Trust me._

_From Sebastian: You will be the death of me woman._

_From Santana: To hell and back._

_From Sebastian: Always._

_From Santana: Goodnight sweetie._

_From Sebastian: Goodnight. Sweet dreams._

_From Santana: Won't be seeing you in them then._

_From Sebastian: I hate you._

_From Santana: I hate you too._

* * *

><p><em><em>**A/N - Okay so I owe you guys a huge apology! I am so sorry for taking months to update. I really, really hope you liked this chapter and can I just say a massive thank you for sticking with the story. I will be trying to update soon. Also, I don't speak Spanish so I'm sorry if what is up there doesn't make complete sense to anyone who is lucky enough to speak the language. Thank you all and I love you. **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N - Thank you for sticking with the story and I love you all!x**

* * *

><p>It wasn't sneaking.<p>

Not really.

He had been invited in, by a very bored looking woman – who he took as being the Lopez's cleaning lady – who just gestured upstairs, clearly used to the young Miss Lopez's callers arriving unexpectedly. And he wasn't all that early, what difference did thirty minutes make?

In truth, his stomach had been in knots all day. Driving the short distance back to his house from Dalton to collect a few spare shirts and boxers had been borderline dangerous with his mind wandering so far away from the road. He just couldn't get rid of the feeling of nervousness at what they were going to do tonight. No one was going to understand it; no one was going to believe that–

His train of thought slammed to a halt with a sharp exhale at what he saw turning the landing corner. A glimpse of Santana sitting before her vanity mirror with a look of concentration on her face – pulling the funniest of expressions while applying mascara to her lashes – stopped him fast in his tracks.

And then it didn't matter. None of it did.

His heart thudded in his chest as he fought the urge to clear his throat loudly to announce his arrival as he just wanted to savour this moment. With her defences down, her hair tied up in a messy bun and a semi ready made up face, she was stunning and vulnerable. Completely ignorant that anyone was watching her she sang along with the song floating out of her speakers.

"_So baby drive slow,  
>'til we run out of road in this one horse town,<br>I wanna stay right here in this passenger's seat.  
>You put your eyes on me,<br>In this moment now capture it, remember it._

_Cause I don't know how it gets better than this,_  
><em>You take my hand and drag me head first,<em>  
><em>Fearless<em>

_And I don't know why but with you I'd dance in a storm in my best dress,_

_Fearless.__"_

He was just struck once again by how much this girl had wound her way into his heart. He wanted to be her everything, always. It wasn't just physical anymore; the feeling of protectiveness, comfort and adoration had sneaked up on without warning and now there was nothing he could do to fight them. His mouth hung open dumbly as he just took her in, watching the way her eyes crinkled slightly when applying her blusher and the twitch of her tanned leg softly tapping along to the beat of the music.

"What are you doing, you creeper?!" Santana exclaimed, smearing mascara along her eyelid in surprise as she caught his reflection in the mirror watching her.

He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was or to give her some excuse and play it cool. But the heat that burned from her eyes as she looked at him got the better of him. Instead, he crossed over to her, drinking in her pouted lips and half naked body – he hadn't even noticed that – and kissed her. Her words died on her lips as she fisted a hand in his hair and dragged Sebastian closer to her.

C_loser, harder, mine, closer, mine, closer, closer._

Her fingers trailed down his neck causing him to exhale in need and, pressing his forehead against hers, their eyes connected intimately, speaking volumes where their voices couldn't.

"You aren't meant to be in here." She murmured, her voice husky and low and going straight to his pants.

"I've been in your room before, Satan, remember? ... Shit, sorry."

Her face tightened slightly at the memory before she let it go and just laughed, pressing a kiss to his nose, "You weren't meant to pick me up until eight. It's seven thirty-four. Go away."

Sebastian held a hand to his heart in mock hurt, "You wish me leave you, fair maiden? My heart just might break from hearing you speak such words."

Smacking him lightly across the head, Santana twirled away from him, "Just amuse yourself, I'm still getting ready. And before you ask, no, you can't get my laptop to look at porn and no, you can't raid my fridge."

"And what am I meant to do then? Fucking and food are the two things I do best." He said pouting as she pushed him backwards onto her bed and pressed a heady kiss to his lips.

"Educate yourself."

And with that she chucked a stray textbook at his head, grabbed the pair of black ankle boots from the bottom of her bed and slammed her en-suite door shut.

* * *

><p>She stood with her back pressed against the cool bathroom door and tried to quell the feelings of disappointment that were coursing through her. Why was he here? It wasn't that she was upset that <em>Sebastian<em> was here, there really was nothing better than spending time with him, but that he was here _now._ She'd just wanted that one special night when someone would knock at her door, their jaw would drop when they saw her, stumble over their words and they would drive off into the sunset together. It was stupid and it was the pathetic part of her that wanted it but…

She smiled to herself remembering the way he'd looked in the mirror, and shook her head slowly. This was crazy. A buzzing feeling of energy was surging through her - something which she knew had been caused by Sebastian. Everything about him drew her in as if it was impossible for them to be anything but close – it was almost hurting her to know that he was so close but not touching her.

"_And if this is what we've got, then what we've got is gold  
>We're shining bright and I want you, I want you to know<br>The morning's on it's way, our friends all say goodbye  
>There's nowhere else to go, I hope that you'll stay the night"<em>

The volume of the music increased suddenly – Sebastian clearly liked this song – and she smiled again, as if she was part of some fantastic secret thing. He made her happy. Breathing deeply, she shook her hair of the bun and slowly tamed the wavy locks with careful fingers. Her reflection in the mirror copied her movements and for the first time in a long time Santana looked at herself and was quietly surprised to see that her eyes had a slight shine to them – the shine that had been missing since Brittany…

It was difficult to put into words how much she had changed since being a child; the carefree princess who'd tried to shut out the cruel jibes of her family for being too skinny, too dumb, too spoiled had just grown up plating those taunts around her heart to shut out anyone else who could hurt her. Her freeness with her body had come from feeling like she didn't matter – from being told that she didn't matter. And when her Abuelo had died, the silent soldier that had cradled her in his arms when things became all too much, it was ten times harder to be herself. The fear of rejection, the denial of who she really was, disappointing people, had just swallowed her.

And now stood Sebastian, brilliant and stubborn Bas who just accepted without question, without doubt, who wanted to deal with her shit and help her. The way he looked at her made her feel as if no one else was ever going to compare. She felt…loved.

These thought ran through her mind as she slipped into the lacy purple dress that hung from the top of the door and thanked her lucky stars that she hadn't cut her ankles shaving her legs because the rubbing of cut skin against the suede of her boots just would have been a nightmare. She didn't want to look at herself, scared that what she saw wasn't going to be good enough for Sebastian, and quickly just pulled the bathroom door open.

"Ready to – "

He wasn't there.

Okay, so no need for the crushing feeling of rejection that tumbled over her, he was probably just at the bathroom downstairs or actually raiding her fridge or-

"Santana, you…you look beautiful." She turned round at the sound of his voice, standing in the doorway again, holding a small silver box in one hand, looking terrifically out of breath but amazed. His green eyes sparkled as she took her in and he cleared his throat gruffly when she smiled at him.

"I thought you-"

"I got you something." He interrupted, "I'd left it in the car and I thought I could get it and get back before you noticed."

Her stomach coiled in happiness, "You didn't need to." Walking towards him, she noticed how his eyes didn't watch her legs or her hips or her chest, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from her own and it warmed her heart to know that it wasn't her body he was in it for. She brushed a finger over his lips as his arm wound its way around her waist and he offered the small present towards her.

Ducking her head she opened it carefully – the moment settling in somberly around them – and let out a little chuckle at the contents. A Dalton badge, his Dalton badge, clipped to a dainty silver bracelet.

"Is this you asking me to go steady, Mr. Smythe?"

The thought sent a giddy feeling straight to her heart as she felt him laugh and looked up to see him smiling down at her.

"Thought it was about time I asked you properly." He looked nervous, that fear of rejection that bound them together surfacing in his eyes even if he was trying to counter it with his smile.

Their lips met in a gentle kiss, an unspoken answer. This was better than some stupid front porch meeting.

This was them.

* * *

><p>This was bad.<p>

Apparently half eight is still too early to arrive to a party full of judgmental choir nerds. The tension in the air as he walked in with Santana clutching his hand was ten miles past uncomfortable. Eyes followed their movements and nothing but the music could be heard. So maybe this wasn't the best idea in the world but no one was going to make him feel like this relationship was something to apologise for because -

"I TASTE PINK AGAIN!" Rachel squealed, coming from the kitchen of Blaine's massive Westerville family home cradling two bottles of wine in her arms and Sebastian swore that Santana whispered, 'Thank God for Rachel Berry.".

"Who let Rachel near the alcohol again?" Santana asked widely, strutting over to stand beside her and grab the other un-opened bottle from her, popping the lid and taking a drink. The tension didn't evaporate but almost everyone laughed and just turned back to their own business, Artie turning up the volume of the music and swatting away Puck's attempts to take his glasses from his face.

Sebastian shook his head in wonder at her and mouthed, "Nice one," before sliding into the seat between Blaine and Jeff and joining into their highly amusing drunken argument of who was the better Joker – Jack Nicholson or Heath Ledger. He didn't want to spend time away from Santana but she'd convinced him on the car ride over that this way was better.

_Her fingers brushed over his, "If we just act like a couple all night everyone will just think we are trying to isolate ourselves and it'll be even more awkward."_

"_But why should we have to hide this?"_

"_We're not hiding it, we're working the room, arrive together to show them that this is something real. They need to know that we haven't changed."_

_Sebastian sighed and rolled his eyes at her, "I thought you didn't care what they thought of you?"_

"_I don't – not really – but I want them to understand that this isn't a phase, I'm still the same Santana. Just in lo– just with you."_

_His voice caught in his throat at her cover up, she had been about to say it. Suddenly, she took her hand away and he almost swerved off the road in surprise. _

"_Don't do that, Satan. Don't hide from me. I don't – I get it – I do." _

_Looking across at her, he saw her playing with the bracelet absently and reached over to take her hand again. _

"_We talk to everyone at the party on our own, and then we find each other. I'm not hiding this, Santana, not a chance. If they don't like it, I don't care. Hell, all of them put together have more crazy baggage than us, you are my girlfriend and they can go fuck themselves if they don't understand that."_

As he watched her deep in conversation with Kurt, he thought about how strong she was. This entire relationship was completely against everything that she had fought for and still she managed to own the room. Oh, and she was stunning, he'd already seen about four members of the Warblers darting looks at her legs, what they didn't know was that what was inside of her was so much more precious that the exterior. That was just for him.

* * *

><p>Two bottles of wine later and the familiar hazy blur was beginning to slur her words.<p>

"But Quuuin, why not just tell Rachel how you feel?" She giggled around the words, bumping her knees against Quinn's.

Her fingers were buzzing slightly and she held them to her face in wonder as Quinn answered her, "Just leave it, Santana, she's happy with…"

As if on cue Rachel came bursting through the patio doors – how did she get outside? – and threw herself across Quinn's lap, pouting up at her.

"Finn won't dance with me. You'll dance with me, right Quinn? You're so pretty when you dance. Please dance with me. Oh, Quinn, please. Please. Pleeeeeeease."

Santana watched the shift of facial expression on Quinn's face from disappointed, to amused, to love-struck and settling on resignation. She closed her eyes briefly and the wet shine didn't escape Santana's notice.

"Let's go find Blaine, Rachel, see if he'll sing a song with you." Santana said loudly, prying Rachel's hands from Quinn's shoulders and leaning her against her own body. The look of thanks that Quinn gave her made her want to slap Rachel for being so blind.

Rachel mumbled incoherently – something about breaking her no drinking rule – and clung heavily to Santana's forearm. It hit home hard that this could easily be her, if she and Sebastian had refused to acknowledge what was going on between them. She could have been sad, desperate and pining after something but completely refusing to accept it.

She shoved Rachel down onto the couch just a bit harder than she needed to and whirled around, now desperate to find Sebastian. It was like thinking about him made the need to be with him to painful to ignore, not that that need ever truly died down.

Stumbling slightly in her heels, she made a beeline back outside towards the twenty foot outdoor swimming pool where she'd seen Sebastian last and instead found a very disgruntled looking Kurt Hummel.

"What's wrong with your face?" She bit at him, sliding slightly on the tiles as she crouched down beside him.

"I caught sight of you." He retorted smartly, unfolding another part of the towel he was sitting on so that she could join him. Somewhere in between the ridicule, a sort of sharp camaraderie had formed between them, not that either of them would ever admit to it. She respected his boldness and he understood her bitterness towards the world.

"Our little hobbit not satisfying you enough?" She teased, thinking back to the last time she had seen Blaine but the memory was slightly fuzzy, maybe with the tall Warbler?

Kurt laughed and shook his head, "Blaine? No, me and Blaine are…" he trailed off, a sort of far away look sweeping over his face, "just perfect really."

She made a gagging noise but secretly she was amused as that was what she must look like when she thought of Sebastian – or something close to it, "Well what is it then?"

"Finn."

"What's the idiot done now?"

The way that the moonlight bounced of the pool made Santana wonder how pretty Sebastian would look naked and writhing beneath her in the light. She crossed her legs over and breathed deeply, vowing that in the next five minutes Sebastian would be against her.

Kurt sighed, bringing her back into the real world, "He's just got some stuff going on with Carol about _his_ Dad and _she_ just keeps crying to _my_ Dad. I just want to hit some sense into him. I mean she is his _mother_." The little raise in his voice made her think this wasn't all that was bothering him but she knew not to say anything.

"Kurt…"

"It's fine. Just with Blaine up dancing, I just needed a moment to myself." He paused slightly, as if unsure of how to phrase his next sentence, "How are you and Sebastian?"

She could see the honesty in his eyes, it was prying, it wasn't mocking; he was genuinely and sincerely asking how their relationship was going. There were questions in there too, asking what and why and how in hell were they actually functioning, but Santana still felt as if she could trust him.

How were they going?

No one had actually asked her that yet and she fell short at giving an answer. How could she describe the heat that pooled in her stomach whenever he laid a finger on her, the complete sense of security and connection that flowed between them, the light in Sebastian's eyes, the press of hearts, the taste of skin?

"We're just…he's…"

"Everything? I know." He smiled, understandingly and looked as if he was going to say more but…

"Mind if I cut in?" Blaine's stood, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, smiling widely and hair in a mess. The love that flowed from them was something that Santana had always been jealous of, not that she wanted them to be miserable but just she craved the quiet knowledge that there was someone who understood you perfectly and accepted you without question.

Kurt's eye's widened in longing and he patted Santana's thigh in apology as he stood up and leaned in for a kiss.

"Get a room!" She teased, throwing her hair behind her shoulder and quickly exiting before anything R rated began.

She swore she heard "You look so pretty on your knees," and realised that she was never going to be able to watch Kurt's 'Single Ladies' dance the same way ever again.

* * *

><p>Where was Santana? The alcohol coursing through his veins had somehow convinced him that dancing with his shirt hanging loose around his shoulders was a good idea. Rachel had ended up wrestling the mike off of Puck and Jeff and was currently singing sloppily as the karaoke machine churned out the tune,<p>

"_I've been roaming around, _

_I was looking down at all I see,_

_Painted faces fill the places I can't reach."_

He missed Santana's soft body pressed against his. He missed her flowing hair and the way that she swung her hips to the music. He was tired of this game, tired of knowing how in love with her he truly was but not being allowed to say it. Because he was. Of course he was. From the moment that their eyes had met in that song, he'd been a goner. Her beauty, her mind, her fierceness, it was innate to her and to he himself.

"_You know that I could use somebody,_

_You know that I could use somebody__,  
><em>_Someone like you and all you know and how you speak."_

Hands clasped around his neck but he had his eyes closed, absorbed in the beat of the music and the revelation of his love. Playing roughly with his hair. Bumping their hips together. His eyes flew open. No.

"_Countless lovers under cover of the street._

_You know that I could use somebody,_

_You know that I could use somebody,_

_Someone like you__."_

Glinting brown eyes met his. Oh. And everything felt right again. He saw the amusement flicker across Santana's face as she pressed against him possessively but he didn't have the capacity to care because he felt complete again. Ducking his forehead to press against hers, he closed his eyes again and just felt the rhythm of the music, reveling in Santana's continued closeness.

_"__Off in the night while you live it up I'm off to sleep,_

_Waging wars to shake the poet and the beat__."_

While everyone around them continued to dance, Santana pulled him across the room, pushing him onto the leather sofa and straddling him. She dragged her fingers across his exposed flesh and he arched into the touch, groans muffled only by her lips pressing insistently against his.

Two teenagers making out a party, nothing new there, but for Sebastian it was as if he had discovered something previously unheard of. Nothing else mattered. Just that Santana never stopped kissing him. Their lips molded together, his tongue sinking into the taste of Santana, drowning in it. She gasped into his mouth as he brought his hands to rest on the curve of her ass, her short dress showing far too much leg but not enough for Sebastian.

"_I hope it's gonna make you notice,_

_I hope it's gonna make you notice,__  
><em>_Someone like me, someone like me_

_Someone like me, somebody,__"_

His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest by the sheer volume of emotion that he felt towards her, the drink only serving to heighten his feelings.

Drawing back her lips, she smiled wicked at him and leaned down to sing darkly along with the lyrics into his ear, while teasing at the waistline of his jeans.

_"__I'm ready now, I'm ready now, I'm ready now, I'm ready now,_

_I'm ready now, I'm ready now, I'm ready now__."_

Bedroom. Now. He was going to pass out if his pants got any tighter and from the way that Santana was going, he didn't think she was going to stop until he came undone. Literally.

"Santana, need…"

"What do you need, baby?" She asked coyly, slipping her fingers under his jeans and he thought that he was going to come right there and then. The sheer want that he felt for her was frankly quite scary, she could ask him to do anything right now and as long as she kept touching him, he would be more than happy to oblige.

Her dark lashes framed her beautiful eyes and he became lost in the depth of them, "Need you. God, Santana, you are so gorgeous. Please."

She pressed in again for a dirty kiss, all tongue and no care, while he squeezed her ass sharply, trying to convey how large his need was.

"_Someone like you, somebody__._

_Someone like you, somebody._

_Someone like you, somebody__.  
><em>_I've been roaming around, I was looking down at all I see."_

As the song ended, Sebastian realised just how graphic they were being, not that he had an issue with people watching him but Santana was different, he wasn't about to just give a bunch of horny teenagers a free show. He made to stand up but she pushed him back down.

"Just wait until I get you into bed tonight, Smythe. You aren't going to know what's hit you." She murmured into his ear, laughing softly and his groan of assent.

"Fuck, Santana, I love you."

Shit. No. He hadn't meant that. No, he did mean it but not like that. Not when he was drunk and horny and that's what she would think it's all about. It was meant to be this perfect moment. Shit. Fuck.

Santana recoiled from him slightly and looked at him questioningly, pushing hair away from her face.

"No, I didn't…I meant…Santana…" He tried to explain but the drink was fogging his ability to focus and it ended up sounding like he was trying to backtrack instead of making it better.

And just like that, her defenses were back up, her eyes sharpened and her mouth tightened slightly as she drew back from him, "It's fine."

"No. God, Santana, of course I-"

"WHO WANTS TO PLAY SPIN THE BOTTLE?"

* * *

><p>Okay, so Rachel repeating almost everything that had gone on the last time she was drunk was highly annoying – alright slightly amusing – but for the second time that night, her timing couldn't have been more perfect.<p>

There were cheers of approval from the rest of the room and suddenly they sprung unto action, Nick clearing away the mess of empty bottles on the living room floor, Tina turning an old record sleeve of Blaine's into a makeshift board and Rachel supplied the bottle.

Santana noted all of these things happening with clinical accuracy, her mind still reeling. Sebastian was drunk she reminded herself, sometimes things slip out that you didn't mean. Just in this case it had been the one thing that she'd wanted him to mean.

The guilt that flickered over his face only added to the stab in the heart, and she felt as if she couldn't breathe. Pushing herself unsteadily to her feet, she quickly rushed out blindly, ending up almost banging into some Warbler making out with Sugar in her haste to leave.

It wasn't surprising, she didn't expect Sebastian to be feeling the same things as her, she didn't quite understand how she loved him either, but knowing that he wasn't ready to say the words yet hurt. But they were out there now, ruined and filled with doubt.

She sunk down against a cool door of Blaine's landing and fought the tears that were threatening to spill over. While she'd been thinking about just how much Sebastian meant to her, he hadn't been. The bracelet around her wrist now felt too heavy against her skin – it was just a placatory wasn't it, a way of him keeping her happy without actually feeling.

Yes, she was probably jumping to conclusions but she was so used to rejection now that it was default and–

"Santana! Satan. Wait!"

As he rushed to stand before her, she looked up and shook her head, trying her hardest not to show just how hurt she was, "Sebastian, you don't need to explain, it's fine, you aren't in love with me. I get it."

"You don't get it do you?" He sighed and brought his sweat covered body to sit in front of her. "You think I don't love you?"

"You said…"

"I didn't mean… Listen to me, okay?"

Santana just wanted the ground to swallow her, she didn't want this pathetic excuse; she didn't think her heart could take it.

"Santana, I do love you." He placed a hand over her mouth when he saw her beginning to argue. "I didn't want to tell you there, with a bunch of drunk teenagers around and us half fucking, you deserve better than that."

She wanted to believe him, the earnest look in his eyes was pleading with her to understand, and anything would be better than feeling like the world had kicked you in the stomach. But why should she believe that anyone actually loved her.

"I can see you talking yourself out of. Stop. I love you. I don't care if it's too soon or we're too young or we're gay, okay? Because I love you."

His hands cupped her face and she felt the familiar butterflies start back up in her stomach. Did he mean it? Really? Did he really think she was worth more than this place?

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips and breathed against them, "I love you, Santana."

Being held by him, having his finger brushing against her cheeks and his thighs pressing against hers, felt like everything she had ever wanted. She could be anything and do anything. The admission hadn't been one that he'd wanted to take back, he'd wanted to make it special, he thought he'd upset her by saying it when the timing wasn't right. He didn't understand that, with him, any time was the right time.

Tracing the arching curve of his frowning eyebrows with her eyes she whispered softly, "I love you too."

It was crazy but then everything about them was. It wasn't a romantic, fairy tale, bare-your-soul declaration of love but it was them; messy, passionate and truthful.

Sebastian's eyes filled with hope once more and he pulled away from her gently, "You mean it? Because you don't have to say it just because I did, I don't-"

His words were cut off swiftly with Santana's insistent kisses and he moaned into her mouth. He tasted of warm beer and something that was only Sebastian, dark and delicious. Hands wandered slowly, relishing in the touch of skin against skin. She gently nipped at his bottom lip and he laughed, low and dangerous.

"Satan, we can't-"

"I know but-"

"Need to go back-"

"One more-"

"Wanna fuck you so-"

"They'll be wondering-"

His lips pressed against hers against, tongue flicking into her mouth and she forgot to care about the party. She just wanted this; wanted Sebastian every way that she could have him.

"Uhh, guys? As great as watching… this… is, I really need to pee." They broke apart and turned to bitch glare at Finn as he stood, swaying slightly and looking extremely uncomfortable.

Santana was two seconds away from flipping him off before she thought about how disgusting that toilet actually was – she was almost positive three couples had been in there already – and tugged Sebastian to his feet, leaning against him and squirming happily as he entwined their hands together.

"Have fun, lumberjack." Sebastian grinned at him and waited until he heard the door closing before adding, "I'm sure Puckerman enjoyed that blowjob just as much as you'll enjoy your potty break."

Santana sniggered into the fabric of Sebastian shirt and then, tilting her head up to look into those beautiful eyes of his, "Spin the bottle?"

"Spin the bottle."

* * *

><p>For general information, Blaine was one lucky boy and Mike really, really wasn't. Locking lips with Kurt had been somewhat embarrassing to begin with but the goading from Sebastian and the teasing from Blaine had pushed them into it, grimacing at each other. But Kurt's lips were soft, carefully molding to match Santana's and he tasted fruity and clean. She sat back smirking at him – eyes slightly too wide – and nodded at him, smiling slightly as Sebastian and Blaine high fived each other. But Tina? Messy, sloppy and overly enthusiastic. That wasn't the highlight of her night.<p>

Every time she span the bottle her heart did a sort of squeeze, clench, pain as the bottle span past Brittany, relief washing through her as it landed on someone else. She knew Sebastian wasn't exactly on board with her and Brittany and she still had no idea how she truly felt about her yet. It was still too messy, and she didn't exactly want to make thing any more difficult. Seeing her, sitting giggling and holding Artie's hand made her both nauseous and pleased at the same time even though she knew that she should be angry. It did hurt but the little glances Brittany kept throwing her way hurt just a little bit more.

Once Sebastian had finished a particularly tongue invasive kiss with Richard – that was the tall Warbler that she hadn't known the name of – it was his turn again and he spun the bottle sloppily, one hand trailing down Santana's spine and licking at the curve of her ear.

Oh.

Shit.

The bottle landed with a gentle clatter, pointing it fate towards an open mouthed Brittany. Either no one noticed or everyone was too drunk to notice but Santana heard them both utter, "No!" as they both turned to look at her.

But then Rachel was singing, "It's the rules. It's the rules."

And Jeff chanted, "Kiss. Kiss. Kiss."

They looked at each other, disdain and un-comfort and controlled anger flowing between them and Santana saw the resignation cross both of their faces. Leaning in, Brittany brought her lips towards him with Sebastian doing the same, before Puck reached out and made their lips touch. The room erupted in cheers but Santana felt a little sick, not knowing how Sebastian was going act now that it had happened.

He pulled back quickly, wiping his mouth subtly and reached out to pull Santana onto his lap, digging his fingers into her hips as if holding on for his life.

"There isn't enough alcohol in the world to drown that memory out." He murmured into her ear and burying his face in the crook of her neck.

She laughed and shifted herself so that she could see his face, "You okay?"

"That kiss just reaffirmed that I am only not gay for you." He said, his words muffled slightly and his tongue drawing soft patterns on her collar bone.

She chuckled and retorted sarcastically, "Just what a girl wants to hear."

Sebastian looked up at her, smirking and rubbing a hand through his messy hair, "What about you and Kurt? That do anything for you? I hear you've got a thing for gay guys."

She punched his arm, "Nope, I've just got a thing for idiotic, rich, schoolboys with bed head."

"There are about ten of those in the room right now, take your pick."

"Hmmm, I mean the blonde hair really does turn me, oooof." Santana's breath rushed out of her lungs as Sebastian dumped her on the floor playfully and stuck his tongue out at her.

The alcohol in their systems plus the knowledge that they both did love each other made their eye's sparkle and made them want to act like children. But the dark look that Sebastian gave her as she uncrossed her legs made the fire that was churning in her stomach flare into life.

"We're out guys." She said, not taking her eyes off of Sebastian's. Protests met her words but they fell on uncaring ears as Sebastian pulled her to her feet and they slipped out into the murky darkness.

* * *

><p>His skin, tanned and toned, glistened with sweat in the pale moonlight, expanses of muscle flexing and moving against her own slick skin. The illuminating light filtered in through the wooden blinds of the summer house, droplets of water sprinkled across the floor from their footsteps because, of course, it had been imperative to walk along the water covered pool sides while messily kissing and teasing their way across Blaine's back lawn. They had undressed with ease, letting fabric fall until only gooseflesh and want remained. Sebastian's hands traced patterns across the downy hairs of her lower back, dipping occasionally to pinch at her bottom or scratch at her thigh. She yielded to his touch, moaning at the way his touches never quite reached where she wanted them too until she was literally quivering underneath him, her back pressed against the plush fabric of the love seat.<p>

"Sebastian, please…" She groaned, arching her head to join their lips together, loving the sounds that she could pull from him by twisting her fingers into his hair.

He brought is hands up to gentle caress her breast and although she felt her heart squeezing happily that he was being careful with her, he was treating her like something that he was going to damage.

"I'm not going to break, Bas. Harder."

He looked at her, and she saw something almost reverend in his eyes, "God, Santana, you, you don't even know how beautiful you are. This. You. Just perfect."

He lowered his head to lick at her nipples, digging his fingers into her hips once again and oh, okay, so he was hard. Not that she hadn't already known but there was a difference in seeing his cock, flushed dark and dripping precome, and feeling it against her hip. It made what they were about to do all the more real.

"Are you sure?" He asked, bringing his lips back up to mouth along her jaw.

The question was an out, a way of just shoving the brakes on and there was no way in hell that Santana was even remotely considering doing that.

"Kiss me."

The awkward fumbling in pant pockets for a condom and the sharp sound of the packet tearing was something that Santana hadn't missed but somehow Sebastian managed to make it look sexy. Everything about the boy screamed sexy and Santana wanted to trace every inch of this boy's body with her tongue. She didn't care if it took days.

And then it was just Sebastian's eyes, his murmuring words and him, pressing against her entrance and inhaling sharply as the sensations hit. Pain slammed into her, even with Sebastian's fingers stretching her out beforehand, as he eased his way in but then, oh, pleasure. He filled her, breathing heavily against her skin and waiting for her signal to move, waiting, always waiting for Santana's permission.

"Sebastian, I love you, but if you don't move in the next two seconds, I will slap you." She breathed into his ear, words too fast and too muddled but it seemed to get the message across. Drawing his hips back, he thrust back into her, groaning as he fisted her hair and smashed their lips together.

Pleasure shot through her, making her thrust back against him and clawing at his back, begging for _faster, harder, more_.

"Oh, God, Santana, feels so good," sweat glistened on his forehead as he hooked one of her legs around his waist and moaned in pleasure at the new angle, "So gorgeous…you're so tight…God!"

She tried to murmur words of encouragement back but she was just in too much pleasure to even form words. Everything was Sebastian, his touch, his taste, he scent. The soft slapping of skin against skin filled the quiet air inside the summer house and the windows were swiftly fogging from the heat.

Reaching a hand down to rub at her pulsing clit, she sucked on Sebastian's collar bone, biting roughly at the skin and apparently he liked that from the force of his next thrust and the whine that escaped his mouth.

She was close, too much want and too much build up and she could tell that Sebastian was too. She wound her other hand around his back and squeezed his ass sharply, "I'm close, baby. Want you to come. Want you to come in me."

He growled – actually growled – and sought out her lips for a sloppy kiss, with too much teeth but neither of them cared in the slightest. His thrusts were becoming deeper now, harder, knowing that his release was coming soon. But he seemed intent on getting Santana to climax first, nudging her fingers out of the way so that he could rub her clit himself.

"Come for me. Come with me, Bas." It was the mention of his name that sent him spiraling over the edge, grunting and thrusting shallowly as his cock pulsed inside of her. The sounds of him coming and the feel of his fingers against her clit brought her orgasm shooting through her, feelings of complete pleasure and ecstasy crashing over her.

Coming down from their highs, they exchanged wondrous smiles and open mouthed kisses as Sebastian pulled himself out with a wet sounding squelch. Santana screwed her face up at the sound but kissed him again, knowing that nothing could ruin this moment.

And for once, no one walked in; no one interrupted or asked stupid questions or distracted them. They were allowed just to lie together, a couple in love and share a few minutes of blissful peace.

* * *

><p>Waking up next to Santana was something that he could get used to. The innocent expression on her face as she slept was something hat he wanted to carry with him at all times, it was like personal happy juice.<p>

"That's creepy." She muttered, voice still thick from sleep.

"It's cute." He said and ran and hand through her dark hair, it wasn't fair for someone to be that beautiful.

"You're creepy."

"You love it."

"Nope."

He laughed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her bedroom was flooded with light and their clothes were scattered across her floor, neither of them caring much for folding after getting home from Blaine's, still in the after glow of sex.

She was gorgeous, and having sex with her last night had been something that he had been terrified of, and now he realised that there had been nothing to worry about. He had sex with the person he loved.

And it had been glorious.

"I love you." She said softly, opening her eyes and smiling sleepily at her.

"I love you, too."


End file.
